


Tomorrow

by FivePips



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character Death, Zombies, accidental parentlock, unspoken feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:06:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 41,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FivePips/pseuds/FivePips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We join Sherlock and John two weeks into the Zombie Apocalypse. Sherlock has barely spoken a word, he's been mostly pacing the living room of 221B. John has been making the flat as secure as possible while wishing it was more Shaun of the Dead than The Walking Dead. But now Sherlock believes it is time to leave London for a sparsely populated area on the coast. On their way out of the city the meet a few familiar faces and they join their party, to Sherlock's dismay. </p><p>John has to keep an eye on curious Sherlock on their journey so the man isn't devoured by the creatures along with keeping harmony between the consulting detective and the rest of the group. Not only does he need to worry about zombies and the group with Sherlock, they have to deal with some unspoken feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plan

John beat the last nail into place, hoping the door would hold up a bit longer until he could get Sherlock out of the city. Mycroft had warned them earlier to leave but Sherlock being Sherlock had ignored all of his calls and attempts of communication. John had lost his phone a week ago when he was chased home from the surgery so he was out of touch. Greg stopped by and begged the pair of them to leave but Sherlock was too busy pacing the room and pulling at his own hair to listen. John couldn’t leave without Sherlock so he waited for the man to get a hold of his brain in order to move on.  
  
He wiped the sweat from his brow, gathered his supplies, and headed up the stairs to their flat. John knew he was going to have to begin packing but he wasn’t sure where to start or how much to bring because he didn’t know where to go. It’s not every day one prepares for a journey in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. He should have paid more attention to 28 Days later or The Walking Dead. He was almost hoping it would be like Shaun of the Dead but no such luck, he hadn’t had a pint in almost two weeks nor saved the love of his life. The outbreak wasn’t contained or stopped and zombies were not being used to do remedial work. He sort of fancied the idea of a zombie Sherlock chained up in his back yard at times when he needed something to think about.  
  
It had all started with a story in the news from the States, a man eating another man’s face. Gruesome but John had figured some mental disorder played apart in the attack but then there were more stories from around the world pouring in. In Russia a woman was attacked and gutted by five of them. Afghanistan, a US Army Officer was found eating a local’s brain. The first claim that the undead were rising and were the culprits of these attacks came from BBC, sending people into hysteria. There was rioting leading to more people being killed leading to more infections leading to more zombies. All the major cities were taken and over run by the dead even after the military attempted to use as much force as they felt necessary. All the reports on television had stopped coming in. There were still radio reports every so often but they were mostly listings on shelters.

The whole while John secured the flat and Sherlock stayed in the living room driving himself into a frenzy. There were shelters set up but Sherlock didn’t want to go. John didn’t really either, he didn’t want to put his life in other people’s hands. John hadn’t heard from any of their friends for a week. Mrs. Hudson hadn’t been heard from since she went to see Mrs. Turner the night before John was chased home. He silently grieved her in his room and never said a word about it to Sherlock. He wasn’t sure about Greg or Mike or Molly because phone services were down as well as Internet service. Then again if it weren’t it wouldn’t matter because John was phoneless. Mycroft was surely safe in some bunker, at least he hoped. But if he were, wouldn’t he have saved his brother? He didn’t like that thought so he ignored it.  
  
John had gathered all the food from both his flat and Mrs. Hudson’s the other night in order to take inventory. They could survive maybe another week without leaving for food if his reinforcement held. After that he was going to have to go into survival mode, that army training was going to do him some good it seemed. But he would very much like it if it was all sorted before that. Or if he would wake up and find it had all just been a dream. Or Sherlock had drugged him and this was all apart of some trip.  
  
When John returned to his flat he found Sherlock looking at him expectantly from his chair, “What is it?” John ventured, somewhat nervous to ask though because he hadn’t spoke to Sherlock for days. The last time he did it was all shouting.  
  
“We need to leave.”  
  
“Now you want to leave after how many warnings?” He couldn’t help but laugh, it came out maniacal, probably because he hadn’t made that sound in weeks.  
  
“I’ve been thinking-”  
  
“For two sodding weeks!” John snapped, throwing his tools and on to the floor. He was sure he was never more frustrated in his life. “For two weeks I’ve been watching you pace the flat while I dismantled anything in this flat and Mrs. Hudson’s to barricade the doors with. For two weeks I’ve sat and thought about our friends and family being eaten by these things. Two bloody weeks of silence and you’ve been thinking.”  
  
“John, you’re being overly emotional. I’ve formed a plan.”  
  
“ _You’ve_ formed a plan instead of just faffing about? Bully for you.” John covered his face with his hands. He was trying to calm himself down. The fact that Sherlock had waited so long was baffling to him. He tried numerous times to talk about a plan but was immediately shut out by the detective. “We should have done that right off. The both of us, together. The world has gone to shite and you’ve been thinking.”  
  
“On how it is possible for this to happen. John, time spent thinking clearly is never time wasted. The dead do not rise and _eat_ people. This does not happen.”  
  
“It has happened, we have to deal with it. And you’ve been thinking clearly? You’ve gone barmy!”  
  
He ignored John’s lashing out, “I’d like to study one. We could go to St. Bart’s.” Sherlock tucked his legs under his body and pulled his red dressing gown around him.  
  
“No, we are not going near the hospitals, especially near the morgues.”  
  
The other man frowned like a child who was refused a treat after not finishing his greens.  
  
“Not that it matter’s much now, I guess, because the things are all over but the last thing we should be doing is research, we need to find somewhere safe. I can’t reinforce the doors and windows anymore.”  
  
“Where is Mycroft when you need him?” He huffed.  
  
“He tried to contact you how many times? Bloody hell, Sherlock.” John shook his head. The man was unbelievable.  
  
“We should leave tomorrow, at dawn. Pack what you are able to carry reasonably, given you have trained to carry heavy packs it should not be an issue. But you should still try to keep it as light as possible. I’d like to make an attempt to acquire guns and ammunition.”  
  
“We could go to the Met.” John offered. “But we’re better off with some knives and bludgeons instead of using guns. You need to go for the brain to kill them.”  
  
“How do you know this?”  
  
“Movies-”  
  
“John.” Sherlock whined. John only started with that to annoy Sherlock.  
  
“And the reports.” John knew 6 things about the undead from the reports. Apparently all these movies weren’t so far off. “But I’ll only tell you the things I know from the reports.

  1. They are attracted to noise
  2. They are killed by damage to their brains
  3. They seem to be attracted to the human scent
  4. They can travel in packs, but there isn’t a social hierarchy because, well they’re dead
  5. Avoid hospitals, malls, jails, and other densely populated areas…so being in the city is a bit not good
  6. Once you’re bitten or scratched you’re infected. You develop a fever, become delirious, there’s numbness and pain in the infected area, paralysis, slowed heart rate, you slip into a coma, eventually your heart stops, and then you come back and you’re one of them…”



“I’m not sure the Met’s a good idea then.” Sherlock stood up, sweeping across the room to his desk. In a flourish he produced a handful of maps. “I believe I’ve figured a route out of the city-”  
  
“We don’t know what the city is like, Sherlock. The last time I was outside was more than a week ago.”  
  
“We may have to improvise, but with our knowledge of the city I believe it is possible for us to make the escape.” He unfolded a map of London then one of Sussex then one of England as a whole, placing them on the floor. Sherlock kneeled by the map of Sussex, “I believe we should attempt to make it to Rye in East Sussex. It’s one of the least populated areas by the coast that is fairly easy to travel to. There are also farms and livestock in the area which could come in handy if this lasts long.”  
  
John nodded, the walk would take at least 20 hours if they followed A268 and didn’t meet any obstacles. Clearly they would, he wasn’t daft. It was not going to be an easy thing but being surrounded constantly by the dead, hearing their moaning and snarls at all hours was starting to get to him. Living there also had the advantage of land to farm. Sherlock proceeded to explain their route out of the city. It would take them close to six hours to reach the outer limits of the city on foot so the earlier they left, the better. Sherlock believed travelling by day was best option because they would be more alert and able to see any possible obstacle. They would walk until they found decent location for the night then pack up at daybreak and move on until they reached the coast.  
  
As soon as the route was finalised John and Sherlock collected things they needed:

  1. John’s gun and ammunition
  2. A few articles of clothing each
  3. Enough food for 3 days
  4. Sherlock’s lock picking kit
  5. Two Machetes
  6. Cross bow
  7. Arrows
  8. Three Grenades
  9. John’s medical kit
  10. Tent
  11. One sleeping bag
  12. Two torches
  13. Batteries
  14. Maps
  15. Five pens
  16. Two Moleskins
  17. Six bottles of water



Looking at their stockpile of weapons John was happy that his flatmate was obsessed with solving violent crimes and often accumulated weapons for experiments. Granted the man never meant for them to be used this way but they were going to be handy. “How long have these grenades been in the flat?” John asked as he packed his rucksack on the floor next to Sherlock, who was inspecting a machete.  
  
“Hmm, not sure.”  
  
John shook his head.  
  
“You’re annoyed with me.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “It’s not about the grenades though.”  
  
The doctor scratched his head, he didn’t want to have a row over it. “I’m just piqued that it took you so long to get here still.”  
  
“I sincerely apologise, John.” He closed his bag. “I’ve been trying to understand this outbreak, I still do not.”  
  
“Maybe when we’re out there you can learn a few things?”  
  
“I do hope that’s true.”  
  
John rested his hand on Sherlock’s knee, “You need to get out of your head because you’re not going to survive in there. You need to think of this as a case and talk it out with me. When you’re in your head with cases, you get stuck and you can’t finish it. When we work together, we get through it, don’t we?”  
  
Sherlock chewed on his lip then nodded, “Yes.”  
  
“How about dinner and one more proper cup of tea before we try to get some sleep?”  
  
After his shower John went to his room to find Sherlock curled up on his side, facing away from the door. He hesitated a moment then climbed in, “You can hear them less up here.” Sherlock spoke softly.  
  
“Yeah, it’s…fine.”  
  
“We’ll make it out of the city, John.”  
  
The army doctor knew he wasn’t comforting him but Sherlock was reassuring himself. “We will.” He wrapped his arms around Sherlock. “Tomorrow.”  
  
"Yes, tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Sherlock's quote about thinking clearly is from Max Brooks' The Zombie Survival Guide: “Remember; no matter how desperate the situation seems, time spent thinking clearly is never time wasted.”  
> -Other Zombie facts come from The Walking Dead, Zombieland, Shaun of the Dead, and other various movies I've watched over time as well as these two sites: http://facts.randomhistory.com/zombie-facts.html  
> http://iml.jou.ufl.edu/projects/fall09/harris_m/anatomy.html
> 
> Happy New Year!


	2. Leaving London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock make their way out of London, encounter their first zombie together, and are saved by a familiar face.

The morning came too quickly for John Watson. He woke up a minute before the alarm was to go off to Sherlock holding him tight around the waist with their legs intertwined. He was struck with the thought this could be the last comfortable moments he may ever have in life so he relaxed into his friend. When the alarm rang Sherlock groaned and yawned before untangling himself from John. Neither of them talked about it. They changed into their day clothes, separately. May meant it was most likely cool in the morning and warm in the afternoon so layers were their key. John made sure they had some warmer things packed if this lasted through winter or if nights were cold. John pitched his dirty pajamas in the laundry bag then wondered why he did that because he’d probably never see 221B again. He suppressed that, _not very good motivation, Watson._  
  
Without a word they set out. Sherlock and John’s escape plan from 221B was to take to the roofs, heading south towards Melcombe Street because there were a few undead lingering outside the flat. They jumped from rooftop to rooftop until the gap was too far. The first step on to the pavement made John’s adrenaline spike, no a zombie in sight but there was threat and John always did well under a threat of attack.  
  
The street was empty as far as they could see so they stuck to pavement, staying as quite as possible. John kept his thoughts to himself about the how eerie and hushed the city was. No people making their way to work or what have you. Cars were stopped right in the middle of the road with the doors wide open as if the people ran for it. There were dead bodies around them and the smell of rotting flesh filled the air, making John’s stomach churn a bit.  
  
The first zombie they encountered was outside of Starbucks on Baker Street. John tried to think of a joke about caffeine and being a zombie but words failed him. Sherlock wouldn’t have heard him anyhow because the man was completely fascinated by the creature, “Don’t get too close.” John grimaced as he reminded his curious flatmate. The zombie was in the middle of the road, staggering towards them.  
  
“Female, 48 years of age. She was bitten on shoulder. Her killer most likely surprised her from behind as she was sitting in a church pew. She’s wearing her rosary still. I need to find if they have a normal decomposing rate in order to be able to tell time of death correctly. I would guess 3 days, wouldn’t you John?” His eyes darted over the woman’s decaying greenish-purple flesh, which was falling off the body on her shoulder and back. Her ginger hair was covered in blood and dirt as well as her blue dress, which was also torn to shreds.  
  
“Are you going to tell me about everyone of them?” John glanced round the street, holding tight to his machete.  
  
“Does it make it harder for you to kill?” Sherlock took another step closer to the zombie.  
  
“No.”  
  
The consulting detective moved even closer to the zombie, John followed behind. The zombie lunged towards Sherlock, making a guttural sound of what could only express hunger (not that he thought it was actually expressing anything), and John pushed Sherlock out of its path. He struck the zombie in the skull with his machete, it made a sickening crunching sound. It fell to the ground, “It’s a bit like putting them out of their misery, right?” John reasoned as he knelt down to work the blade out of the zombie’s skull. “I would want someone to do it for me. I wouldn’t want to be going round after I’m supposed to be dead eating people.”  
  
Sherlock nodded, crouching down to examine the body.  
  
“I know you want to study them Sherlock but it’s a bit too dangerous here, out in the open like this. Once we get out to the country…”  
  
Sherlock stood up with out another word from John, “Let’s move on, shall we?”  
  
“Lead on, McDuff.”

* * *

A few close calls later they were in view of Buckingham Palace, it was surrounded by tanks and heavy artillery, John realised he was in a war zone. He liked that thought a bit more than he probably should have. “What do you reckon happened to the Queen and the rest of the Royal Family? Still in there?”  
  
“This is a ridiculous subject to discuss. I’d venture they’ve all been attacked and changed.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Looks like the guards were overrun.”

“So?’

“I have no idea, John, I just assumed you’d want the vision of Queen Elizabeth as one of these things.” Sherlock kept his eyes searching for signs of threats as they crossed The Mall into St. James’ Park towards in direction of The Houses Parliament. They went over the Westminster Bridge and the tracks of Waterloo Station without speaking another word to each other or encountering much of anything. But after passing Waterloo they found themselves face to face with a mob of zombies, at least forty of them. They both froze, it was a moment that John wished Sherlock could actually read his mind. He wanted to make it to the pub down the way, in a sprint they had a chance.  
  
 _Look at me you cracking idiot and read my bloody mind!_ As John thought five gunshots rang out down the way, along with ‘run!’ from another person. That’s what John did, right to the pub with Sherlock fast on his heels. “You bastards!” A familiar voice yelled as they reached the pub.  
  
“Greg?” John nearly collapsed the sight of grey-haired DI in doorway, tucking away his gun. He had been running. “I was taking a look 'round to assess the situation and saw two people looking like they were in need of some help. Couldn’t believe my eyes when I realised it was John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. Come in, come on.” He entered the pub.  
  
John was even more surprised to find who was sitting in the pub; Sally Donovan, Josh Anderson, and Molly Hooper. “John! Sherlock!” Molly looked like she was about to start crying.  
  
John couldn’t hold back a smile but he felt it disappearing as he looked at the group. They were all tried and looked as if they had been fighting for days without a moment’s rest. Greg, who was securing the door, was downright worn out, as if he had been doing all the thinking and fighting himself. Molly had her mousey brown hair pulled back into a bun, her face seemed older than he remember. It has only been two weeks but she must have seen so much. Sally was wearing jeans, tee-shirt, and trainers and John tried to think back to a time he saw her in casual wear but couldn’t. He pushed the odd though aside when he noticed her forearm was wrapped up.  
  
“What happened, Sally?” He slipped his pack off and went to the bar where Sally was sitting.  
  
“Don’t worry it’s not a bite. Just cut myself on some glass when we had to climb out of the car.” She shrugged as John moved closer.  
  
“May I have a look?”  
  
“If you’d like.”  
  
He was about to ask the group what had happened when, “Boys? Oh boys it is you!” Mrs. Hudson emerged from another room in the pub. John left Sally and wrapped his arms around her as tears welled up in his eyes. John was positive that she had been killed and turned into one of those things. Seeing her was like seeing his own mum, who he’d been attempting not to think about. He glanced over at Sherlock, who was sulking in the corner near Greg, to see him fighting a smile.  
  
“John assumed you were dead, I on the other hand know you are far too smart to get caught.” Sherlock spoke slowly, trying to hide his excitement.  
  
The army doctor rolled his eyes, “He’s lying, Sherlock was worried too.” He let go of the older woman to survey her. Other than a few superficial scratches and looking as tired as the rest she seemed to be all right. “What happened? How’d you all find one another?”  
  
John went back to Sally after embracing Mrs. Hudson once more, “Sally, Anderson, and I decided it was high time to make it out of the city the other day after being cornered at The Yard for an uncomfortable amount of time. There was no one left, all of them either left or they turned into a RLF.” Greg explained, coming closer to John and Sally.  
  
“RLF?” Sherlock perked up, interested in learning a new term.  
  
“Reanimated Life Forms, that’s what the government was calling them.” Anderson normally would have been relishing the fact he had known something that Sherlock hadn’t. He sat at a table with Mrs. Hudson, shoulder’s hunched, no sign of victory in his voice.  
  
“Oh, that’s much better than zombie.” Sherlock’s voice was his normal tone when he found something fascinating.  
  
“Of course you like it, sounds scientific.” The doctor sighed, inspecting Sally’s gash. The laceration was about four inches long and deep enough to need stitches. “Sherlock, grab me my kit. I need to sew it up Sally.”  
  
Sherlock groaned and put his head on the table.  
  
“Bugger off, I’ve saved your arse three times so far this morning. Also, how many times have I had to gather your things when _you’re_ working or in a strop?”  
  
The consulting detective moved over to John’s rucksack to rummage for the kit without another complaint .  
  
“So you decided to leave?” John urged the story on.  
  
“Three days ago, we thought to stop by St. Bart’s, just to see if we could find any supplies. We found Molly and Liz there, holed up in a closet, close to dehydration. Liz said she’d been taken to the shelter in the hospital with Mrs. Turner, who was missing when she had found Molly.” Greg proceeded to piece together what had happened after Sherlock dropped John’s kit to him, how they had to kill a numerous amount of the zombies in order to get out of the hospital. Then Greg’s car had broken down a few streets over. They were swarmed and lost all their supplies and most weapons, luckily making it out alive and finding the pub. They weren’t sure where they wanted to go but they wanted to get out of the city.  
  
“Well you’ll come with us, can’t leave you all here.” John said as he finished the stitches.  
  
“Where you off to?” Sally inspected John’s fine work before John bandaged it up.  
  
“Towards Rye in East Sussex.”  
  
“Oh, nice place to holiday.” She attempted a laugh but it came out kind of funny.  
  
“It is within reasonable walking distance and it has the advantage of being sparsely populated.” Sherlock was vexed. John knew Anderson and Donovan being around would potentially be a large bother. Sherlock couldn’t stand either of them in the field, especially Anderson. The two seemed to be annoyed with Sherlock as well in normal life but John hoped things could be set aside because of the world had been turned on it’s ear.  
  
 John finally took in the pub itself as Sherlock went on to talk about Rye to their friends, more at them. The windows and doors were shuttered and locked, chairs and tables were broken, and it was ill lit by one lantern on the bar where John had been working on Sally as well as some sun streaming in from the shuttered windows. The bar still looked stocked, John was tempted to filch a bottle of whisky. Could come in handy for sterilisation.  
  
“I believe we need 5 more hours of walking before we reach safety.” Sherlock sighed, looking at his watch. “It’s half nine, we need to leave. We’re wasting time here.”  
  
“Calm down, Sherlock. There’s a pack of those things outside, we need a way to get rid of them.”  
  
“We use a grenade, easy. John and I will go up a street, set it off and attract them. You all need to run, as fast as possible to Morely College. We’ll meet you there. Collect your things and leave, quickly.”  
  
“Sherlock, they need weapons.”  
  
“There’s an ax behind the bar, 2 knives on the corpse in the car out front, a crowbar on the pavement three steps from the pub, Lestrade and Donovan have their guns, and Anderson is carrying a knife. We’ll give them one of the machete’s as well as my pack, which Greg will carry.” He paced. “We must leave now.”  
  
No one complained, to John’s surprise. With one more rehash he was out the door with Sherlock. “You hate me for inviting them along.” John went up the fire escape of a building a street up from the pub.  
  
“We don’t need excess baggage but I knew you wouldn’t be in the mood for arguing and we’d lose vital time. You’re always keen to helping others.”  
  
“Sherlock, they're our friends.”  
  
“Your friends, not mine.” He reminded John as they reached the rooftop.  
  
“Right, sorry. Forgot you don’t have friends.”  
  
“They may be somewhat of use, the more eyes and all but they’re idiots and Mrs. Hudson will slow us down. They’re all frightened too, you saw them.”  
  
“I’m not leaving them to fight it out on their own.” John clenched his jaw.  
  
“Yes and you won’t let me either.”  
  
“Just…do this for me.”  
  
“I’m unsure of why you brought this up, I didn’t say a word and I was not planning to. My only goal is to find a safer place then study the RLFs. I can find a solution to this problem.” Sherlock peered over the edge. Without John looking he knew they were there by the smell and the moaning coming up from the street.  
  
“It was all over your face, I had to say something.”  
  
“Oh, now you read people?”  
  
“You.” John set his sack down to find the grenade.  
  
“Not well enough.” Sherlock mumbled.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Nothing, hand me the grenade.”


	3. This is War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group makes it out of London and find a place to rest for the night.

It was twelve hours before they were able to get out of London. John had killed more zombies in one day than he had killed enemies in his years in the army. It should have made him sick but he knew it was necessary. The zombies weren’t humans. There was nothing but the hunger for human flesh inside of them. The people that used to be there were gone, their eyes were vacant. Killing them was making the world a better place, a safer place.  
  
“This is war, you’re enjoying it.” Sherlock said quietly, to John only as they were ahead of the group after fighting off a few zombies outside of a solicitor’s office. Sherlock had deduced they had fought off the people’s whose names were on the building. He was a bit curious to know their migratory patterns then.  
  
John just looked at him and kept walking. There was nothing he could say because Sherlock could read this part of him like a book. Sherlock knew John had missed war the moment he set his skilled eyes upon him. He used that side of John more often than not on cases. John was not supposed to enjoy this though because it was the end of the world as he knew it. But he always liked the things that were a bit odd, things others would tend to shy away from (blood, war, getting shot at, following a lanky mental genius about London after dark then living with him for a year and a half). Maybe this was a world in which he would thrive.  
  
It took nearly 12 hours to reach a location that was deemed ‘safe enough’ by the majority of the group. It was a good distance from towns in a wooded area not too far from the road. John decided that they should only set up two of the tents, they had collected two along with the one that he and Sherlock had, in case they needed to make a quick exit they would still have one on them. At the store they had also found a few packs, sleeping bags, torches, and a few other supplies that had been regarded as valuable.  
  
They worked on setting camp quietly by light of their torches. Sherlock decided to build a small fire for a bit of warmth as well as something to cook on. When they finally settled down near the fire to eat, John took a quick survey of his friends. They were worn. Mrs. Hudson’s hip had been bothering her for some time but she soldiered on. She had her kitten heels on before they had discovered the sporting goods store. There they swapped them out with some trainers. Molly looked about ready to burst into tears. For someone who worked with the dead everyday she was having a hard time coming to terms with killing them. Sally and Josh were a bit in shock. Neither of them had thrown a dig at Sherlock the entire day. Greg was quiet, which was odd for John.  
  
Then there was Sherlock. John was not too sure what the man was thinking or feeling. He looked like he was on a tough case, possibly frustrated but interested but he was sure there was more to it. He kept checking his phone even though there was no service, John was sure it was out of habit. Sherlock always had his blackberry glued to his fingers and if it wasn’t he made John retrieve it.  
  
“We’ll keep moving again at day break.” John broke the silence. He felt like, for the better part of the day, all he heard was the groaning of the undead. His friends stayed quiet in fear of attracting the zombies. “We should have watches set up.”  
  
“John and I will take the first.” Sherlock spoke, fidgeting with his phone. “We were the last to sleep…comfortably.” John looked into the fire, hoping he wouldn’t give something away from the night before.  
  
 _John woke up three hours later to Sherlock rubbing circles into his sides. “Thought you were going to sleep.” His voice was rough from sleep._  
  
 _John rolled over to face the other man. He was struck by how open Sherlock appeared, John had only seen Sherlock vulnerable maybe three times in their friendship, it was a bit unnerving. “I was, you were as well.” His mask went back up._  
  
 _“Your rubbing woke me up.”_  
  
 _“It shouldn’t have, it was suppose to be soothing.”_  
  
 _John frowned, “We should be sleeping and I don’t need to be soothed.”_  
  
 _“I appologise.”_  
  
 _“It was nice…Are you unable to sleep?” He asked, hesitantly reaching up to comb his fingers through Sherlock’s unruly curls._  
  
 _“I don’t need to sleep.”_  
  
 _“Yes, you do, don’t know when the next time we’ll be able to be in a bed. Also, why would you be in my bed if you didn’t want to sleep?”_  
  
 _Sherlock thought for a moment then leaned closer to kiss John softly. John was shocked but he didn’t pull away because liked the feeling of Sherlock’s lips on his, they were warm and plaint._  
  
 _When Sherlock broke the kiss, “You-”_  
  
 _The taller man curled up and practically burrowed himself into John’s body._  
  
 _“I-”_  
  
 _“Don’t speak, John. We should go to sleep, we have quite the day ahead of us.” His voice rumbled as John wrapped his arms around him. He wasn’t sure what to think about what had just happened. All he really knew is he wanted to kiss him again._  
  
“’Course you want to do it together.” Anderson snickered and John looked to Sherlock.  
  
“Oh, joy, you finally speak!” Sherlock didn’t even try to fake the expression of a sarcastic joy to go with his tone. “I was waiting to hear you give your brilliant input to a topic all day.”  
  
“Stop, it, the pair of you.” John rubbed his forehead. “We’re in this together, all right? I know you rather not have it this way but too bad. You need each other.”  
  
Anderson looked put off and Sherlock didn’t show a sign of an emotion.  
  
“John’s right. You need to get over your petty arguments.” Greg looked between the two who were sitting across from each other.  
  
Sherlock grunted then stood up.  
  
“Where are you off to?” John gave him a questioning look.  
  
“Listening to your little brains work has given me a headache. I need some time to think.” He stomped off in the direction of the tents.  
  
John shook his head, “I understand the man is far from a saint but you, and Sally too, are not innocent. I don’t care about the things you had against each other in the past, can we just move on?”  
  
Anderson nodded without a word.  
  
Sally took a sip of water before speaking, “I don’t care, haven’t said a thing to him all day. I just want to make it out of here alive. As much as he’s got to me in the past, you two are probably the reasons we’ll make it out all right at the end.”  
  
John raised a questioning eyebrow.  
  
“His brains and your brawn and level headedness is what’s going to get us to Rye then keep us alive. He’s a bloody human Google! I have no idea how to survive without being able to go to the shops to buy what I need or cook without a stove. Maybe if we’re lucky he’ll solve the entire RLF issue and we’ll be back in London.”  
  
Mrs. Hudson smiled, “Of course he’ll solve the problem.”  
  
John looked back to the tent and wondered how Sherlock was really feeling. He was frustrated but was he scared? Was he sad? He wanted to know. He also wanted to know what he meant by that kiss but John would never ask because they didn't talk about things like that. They didn't talk about feelings, especially not at the end of the world.  
  
“I’ll take the watch with you, John.” Greg offered. “He’s going to be a strop for some time it seems.”  
  
“Sure you don’t want to have a kip? You look tired, I’ll force him out here.”  
  
“Always the doctor. No worries John, I’m all right.”

Everyone filtered into their tents eventually, leaving John and Greg by the fire. “When was the last time you heard from Mycroft?” John asked slowly. He knew the two were involved but he never stuck his nose those things. Sherlock made a few off hand comments about it when he was particularly annoyed with Greg.  
  
“He told me to get out of the city six days ago, day before the government fell into shambles.” Greg didn’t look at John, he was glancing out into the trees.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“'Bout what, exactly?”  
  
“Well you two…”  
  
Greg sniggered, “You have a Holmes yourself, you should know what a relationship with them is like.”  
  
“I don’t have a Holmes.”  
  
“You and Sherlock really don’t…” The detective inspector finally looked to John curiously.  
  
“No, no…no.” The third no was probably one no too many. “I don’t understand what you’re saying about Mycroft?”  
  
“I’m saying he was married to his work and myself, my work. We weren’t in love or anything cute like that.” Something about Greg’s expression said otherwise to John. “Still don’t believe you ‘bout you and Sherlock.”  
  
“I still don’t think you’re telling me the truth about Mycroft.”  
  
“Piss off…Shall we change the subject then?”  
  
“Probably for the best before we end up chinning one another.” John kicked at the earth beneath his feet. “So the government…”  
  
“It disappeared, only way I can explain it. One day the military was everywhere and there were reports from the government five times a day then nothing. I’d say it was odd but after the dead started rising nothing can really top that.” Greg sighed. “What were you two doing?”  
  
John shrugged, “Sherlock was pacing a hole into our floor while I was securing the flat.”  
  
“What took you so long to get out of London? I assumed you would have been gone after I stopped by the other week.”  
  
“Sherlock wouldn’t hear it. I’m not sure what changed his mind. He’s barely spoken to me since the riots started. We talked the other night about what we were going to do and a bit here and there today but he’s in one of his moods. He’s like that when he can’t figure something out.”  
  
After an uneventful four hours John woke Sally and Anderson up then went to the tent where Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock were asleep. He scared Mrs. Hudson when he entered. He didn’t believe he’d see anyone so terrified. “Just me.” He smiled reassuringly, climbing onto the sleeping bag next to Sherlock, putting the taller man between him and Mrs. Hudson. John didn’t want to get into it though because he didn’t like the idea of being restricted. Sherlock apparently felt the same way because he was wrapped up in his great coat instead.  
  
John listened to Mrs. Hudson’s and Sherlock’s breathing as he attempted to fall asleep but it didn’t work. He was extremely aware that at any moment he could potentially have to jump up and kill another zombie. He wasn’t scared over the idea, just ready. After twenty minutes of tossing and turning he felt Sherlock wrapping his arms around him, “Do stop, John. You’ll wake Mrs. Hudson up.” He murmured into John’s ear.  
  
“Done throwing your tantrum?” John ran his fingers over Sherlock’s forearm.  
  
“I was not throwing a tantrum. I couldn’t bare looking at the rat faced twit for another moment.”  
  
“You have to deal with him. He and Sally agreed to not give you a hard time. You need to do the same.”  
  
Sherlock didn’t say a thing, he pressed a kiss to John’s neck.  
  
“You need to do this, don’t let me down.”  
  
“I would never. Now sleep, Watson, we have along journey.”


	4. A Safe Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group takes refuge in an abandoned home.

“Bloody hell.” John rested his body against the now reinforced door. “Is it going to stop raining today? If we continued walking we’re going to end up drenched to the bone.”

“John, it’s impossible to be ‘drenched to the bone’ without having an open wound to the bone.” Sherlock said as he inspected the living room, filling his head with deductions. He flicked a switch and the lights in the sitting room turned on. “Hmm, electricity. I didn’t believe we would have any here.”  
  
“Lovely, we can make dinner. Come on Molly, dear, let’s see what we can find in the kitchen.” Mrs. Hudson patted Molly’s arm.  
  
“Sally and Josh, would you mind helping me with the windows?” John asked, looking around the room. It was quite cosy and John was thinking maybe it would be a good idea to stay there for a few days to give everyone a rest. Sherlock said the owners of the house had gone on holiday to Spain three weeks previous so they were not going to be returning.  
  
The group had made it half way to Rye in 3 days, longer than what John and Sherlock were both hoping for. The hang-ups were mostly sore feet and Mrs. Hudson’s bad hip, with very few zombie encounters. This dissapointed Sherlock. John was as well but he hated he felt that way. He hated that he got excited at the sighting of a zombie, it’s not like he wanted to fight off a mob but he wanted some excitement. Sherlock of course wanted anything out of the ordinary because he was getting bored to the point of claiming that his mind was actually rotting. John tried to point out various things that he could deduce but nothing worked.  
  
When the group was moving slowly John could see all over Sherlock that he was on the border line of exploding into insult laced tirades on them all. But surprisingly he kept his mouth shut, even though he was in one of the worst moods John had ever seen. Sally and Josh had kept their mouths shut as well, making everyone’s lives a bit easier. John was concerned about Molly and Mrs. Hudson. Molly looked depressed. She wouldn’t say anything outside of "yes" or "no", or a few words if someone asks her a question. She just wasn’t her normal self.   
  
Mrs. Hudson’s hip was bothering her immensely. John could see the agony after only a few minutes of walking. Sherlock suggested a car but the others were reluctant with what had happened in London. But now they were somewhat secure in a home, hiding away from the rain, Sherlock brought up the topic once more over a dinner of pasta.  
  
“If we used an automobile then we would be able to make it to Rye in less than an hour. It’s logical. There’s a car out in the front. It has a full tank. It makes complete sense. It has taken us far too long to get to this point. We’ll rest here for two days because John is worried everyone is at the point of exhaustion then we’ll take the car and make our way to Rye.”  
  
“You can’t make a sweeping choice for the group.” John shook his head.  
  
“Actually, that sounds like a brilliant idea.” Greg countered John. “Walking isn’t working. Having a car would be fantastic.”  
  
“I’m not saying the way we’re going right now is how we should continue but Sherlock can’t just make a decision for everyone.”  
  
“Yes but when I make the best ones-”  
  
“You’re such a wanker, you-”  
  
“Boys.” Mrs. Hudson tutted.  
  
John put his fork down, “Sorry. It’s a good idea, Sherlock. Does everyone agree?”  
  
They all nodded.  
  
“Right then.”  
  
The consulting detective didn’t say a word. He just went back to eating his dinner.

* * *

 

When it came time to sleep John and Sherlock took the couch and the floor in the living room, leaving the 3 bedrooms to the rest of the group. Greg took the kid’s twin bed, Molly and Mrs. Hudson in the master, and Sally and Josh in the guestroom. Sherlock said he was able to sleep anywhere and it was just assumed that John would rest on the sofa.

John looked down to the floor to see Sherlock twiddling with his blackberry. He had charged it when he found the power was on. Every so often over the last few days John had noticed the detective playing with his phone, looking like he was longing for some connection. John rested his head on his arm and gazed over Sherlock’s long body, “Anything?” He figured he would finally ask. They hadn’t spoke since dinner when John had a bit of an outburst.  
  
“Of course not.” Sherlock shoved his phone into his pocket.  
  
“Then why do you keep checking it? Out of hope?”  
  
Sherlock made a noise.  
  
“You miss technology.”  
  
“I do not _miss_ technology. Though contact with the rest of the world may be helpful right now. It would be interesting to see if there have been any new developments. It’s a bit odd that there is electricity but we do not have communication capabilities such as mobile and Internet services. Electricity will not last long, there’s going to be a point when we run out.”  
  
The doctor agreed then asked, “Do you think, logically, that you’re going to have mobile service at some point?”  
  
“I do believe so.” He attempted to sound confident but John could hear the doubt in his voice. “May I ask why you picked a fight with me over dinner?”  
  
“I did not.”  
  
“I believe you did. There was no dissent amongst the others. Even Donovan and Anderson were in agreement with my plan. I was surprised with that. But you, John, who had even mentioned the car last night before we went to sleep, you found a reason to have a row. You’ve been attempting to hold the group together but you wanted to argue with me.”  
  
John grimaced, “Sorry, not sure why I did that.” He really wasn’t. It made him feel a bit upset with himself.  
  
“May I venture-ah…” Sherlock hesitated, turning on his side and resting his head on his hand to look up at John.  
  
“Out with it.”  
  
“We haven’t had many spats since leaving London, which is unusual for us. Were you trying to regain our normal repertoire?”  
  
“I don’t think so.”  
  
“We’ve been…getting on without our usual arguments.”  
  
“That’s because I don’t have a refrigerator to open to find pig tongues next to our left over’s and thumbs in the crisper. It’s not like I enjoy fighting with you, Sherlock.” John laughed. “Back at home, on Baker Street, I had to deal with you doing things that drove me completely barmy. What I have to deal with now is worrying one of my mates is going to get attacked by a zombie. You’re the absolute worst with it though, bloody curious bastard. You keep getting too close and you don’t carry any weapons on you.”  
  
“I need to observe them, John.” He stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. “I don’t carry a weapon because you’re always there.”  
  
“One time I’m not going to be.” John closed his eyes because he didn’t like to think about that.  
  
“Fine, I’ll carry around something on my person then.”  
  
“Fantastic.”  
  
It became quiet, John was sitting there pondering about the future of there lives: _Will we be able to survive? Will we make it to Rye? If we make it to Rye, where will we live? Surely there are abandoned houses like this there. But what if the place is overrun by the RLFs? Hopefully it won’t be. If it’s not we’re going to have to live there, We’ll have to survive on the land, find some animals to raise, plenty of farms round. Sherlock won’t be easy to deal with if there’s no crimes, he’ll be bored. The rest of the group will start to hate him at some point because he can be such a bloody git when he’s bored. Maybe I could keep him satisfied with zombies some how. He likes them. Or I could distract him we could-_  
  
“You’re worried about Mrs. Hudson and Molly.” Sherlock broke John’s thoughts.  
  
“Ah, yeah. Why-”  
  
“You were thinking.”  
  
“I wasn’t thinking about that.”  
  
“What were you thinking about then?”  
  
John felt his ears burning, “You.” He hesitantly looked to his friend to discover Sherlock attempting to hold back a smile. “I’m sick of saving your arse.”  
  
“We already covered that.” Of course Sherlock caught on to the cover.

“You’re going to be completely insufferable when we make it to Rye.”  
  
“I’ll have work to do.”  
  
“Not what you want to be doing though.”  
  
“It’s fascinating.”  
  
“If you find some cure or way to destroy them all, you’ll be credited with saving the human race.”  
  
Sherlock scoffed as he stretched out, “Oh how terrible.”  
  
John grinned, “I know, you’d be the first to wish for a plague.”  
  
“Obviously.”  
  
After more silence and a bit of contemplation, “Come here.” John said simply.  
  
“Where?”  
  
“Don’t be daft, on the sofa with me. I don’t want your back to be hurting” He knew they could fit, it was about the same size as the sofa in 221B and they had fit perfectly there before.  
  
Sherlock thought for a moment then joined John and after some rearranging of limbs they found a comfortable position. “Lestrade snores rather loud. Mrs. Hudson’s hip is giving her some bother so she won’t be moving from the bed any time soon. Molly is too scared to venture in the dark on her own. Anderson and Donovan wore themselves out with whatever they were doing to make the bed creek.”  
  
John found Sherlock’s hand that was resting on his hip and squeezed it. He searched the other man’s ridiculously beautiful eyes and found affection. He felt something in the pit of his stomach as Sherlock gently knocked his nose against John’s before finding his lips.

* * *

In the afternoon John discovered Molly sitting in front of the dryer, resting against the wall with her eyes closed. She looked as if she was praying with her hands clasped on her lap and her head down. “All right?”  
  
She jumped then nodded, “All right.”  
  
John sat next to her, “You sure about that?”  
  
“How can I be all right? I lost everything. I don’t know if my family is still alive. My mum and dad and sister…what if any of them have become one of...Them?” Her voice cracked.  
  
“You can’t think like that.” He put an arm around her shoulders. He was concerned about Harry and his parents but it was better not to think about that.

She sniffled then rubbed her nose, “How can you be positive about this? You haven’t looked scared once, not once. Aren’t you scared that nothing is going to be the same?”  
  
John didn’t hate the world that he was in. Sure there were some creature comforts that he was going to miss eventually. He knew it was harder for the others, even Sherlock, because they never lived in the middle of a war. Normal to him used to be mortar attacks in the middle of the night and watching his friends die no matter what he did. At least in this world the enemy was easily spotted, somewhat easily killed, and he could keep his friends safe.  
  
She continued, “You can’t go down to the local for a pint with mates and watch a match or whatever it is you do without Sherlock. At least you have someone.” Molly’s voice cracked.  
  
“We’re here for you. I know it’s not the same but-”  
  
“Of course it’s not the same. I don’t have anyone I love. Sally and Josh are together, you and Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson loves you both as sons.”  
  
“Greg’s alone.” It didn't register with him that he didn't agrue against loving Sherlock.  
  
“But he doesn’t seem like it.”  
  
Greg was putting on a stoic face but John knew deep down somewhere he was missing Mycroft. He was missing his kids, his two girls. God he must have been worried about them, John nearly forgot about the girls because he hadn’t spoken a word about them the entire time. Sally and Josh had parents and aunts and uncles and friends they left behind. Mrs. Hudson had family as well. “We all miss someone or someones, I know that doesn’t make you feel better but it’s true. You’re not alone, Molly.”  
  
“Sherlock doesn’t have anyone.” She said a bit coldly. “You’re it for him but that’s enough, I’d say.”  
  
“I’m sure he thinks of Mycroft and his mum. He may not say anything, like Greg, but he does love them both and misses them.” John sighed and rolled his head back against the wall. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to say.”  
  
“Thank you for trying.”  
  
They sat there facing the laundry unit until the dryer until the cycle was through. They didn’t say a word for thirty minutes. John thought of the things he’d miss: _having a cuppa after a long day at work in front of the telly, Bond movie marathons with Sherlock, watching rugby matches with the mates, lazing about 221B, London in general…_ He cringed a bit that his parents and Harry weren’t on the list sooner. He never did have a great relationship with them and he wondered if they survived and he survived and the world went back to normal if they would grow closer. Probably not.  
  
John thought of all the people and things Molly was missing and how he couldn’t think of a way to replace a single one of them. Maybe he could find a cat somewhere in Rye if they found a safe house. Maybe it would give her some type of comfort in her new world. He hoped that she was going to be able to adjust because she was always so bright before and he wanted to see her happy again.  
  
Eventually they got off the floor and Molly went on with her task. John spent the rest of day helping with repacking bags with Greg, finding a few things to bring along with them in the house with Sally and Josh, and cooking dinner with Mrs. Hudson. The night was spent cuddling and snogging Sherlock on the couch once more. John started to wonder if they needed to talk about it but he was too lost in Sherlock to really care.


	5. Loss of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A member of the group is bitten.

Sherlock paced in front of the stalled car, “I’m fairly certain the engine seized.” Greg turned and wiped his hands on the front of his trousers. Josh nodded in agreement and Sally made an annoyed face. They had only made it a few kilometres from the home they had been staying for two nights.  
  
“WHY? WHY?” Sherlock pulled at his dark curls.  
  
“Sherlock, calm down.” John began to retrive their things from the boot. “We’ll walk until we find another car or…something.”  
  
“This is not going to work.”  Briskly he began walking in the direction of Rye.  
  
“Will you slow your arse down?” John grabbed his pack to chase after Sherlock, hoping everyone would keep up. He finally made it to him while the rest were still at the car.  
  
"We’ll get there," John tried to reassure the genius.  
  
“Calm. Positive. Sure. John, you are infuriating. Why are you positive? You have had terrible incidents occur in your life. I don’t understand. You are dark in some parts and I like those parts but your positivity is driving me completely insane.” He dug his palms into his eyes, finally stopping in the middle of the road.  
  
“I have to be positive it's what gets me through the bloody day. Is that all right with you? Would you rather me be negative and no help to you?” John stood right in front of Sherlock.  
  
“I would-”  
  
Blood curdling screams interrupted Sherlock. John spun around to seeing a RLF tearing into Mrs. Hudson’s shoulder while the rest of the group looked to be in complete shock. She was screaming, her face was twisted in terror. It felt like the worst thing John had ever seen but he knew there were more gruesome images he could conjure. John and Sherlock started sprinting back to Mrs. Hudson but Greg, finally breaking out of the state of shock, was already taking down the zombie, bashing it in the head with a crowbar. Sally gathered Mrs. Hudson in her arms as they reached the group while Greg and Josh made sure the RLF was dead. John saw them speaking but he didn’t hear a thing because his ears were ringing, like he been standing too close to a bomb when it had exploded.  
  
He looked to Sherlock who appeared blank emotionally but was speaking. John focused on the other man’s lips and finally the ringing in his ears subsided, “John, you do understand what is going to happen?”  
  
Of course John knew, he read and heard all about the fevers and paralysis before death then rising. His mind seemed to be stuck because he couldn’t think of what to do next and everyone was looking to him. He’s the doctor, the de facto leader because even Sherlock deferred to him even if the other man made most of the decisions. He felt sick and all he wanted to do was be at home after a case having tea, listening to Mrs. Hudson saying she wasn’t their housekeeper. John knew what they had to do but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud.  
  
“We’ll set up camp for today, in the woods there.” The doctor finally spoke, he didn’t like how his voice sounded as if it were shaking.  
  
“We can’t! We have to keep going!” Sherlock yelled. “Or this will happen again.”  
  
“We can’t leave her here.” Sally threw a hard look at Sherlock. “You psychopath.”  
  
“She’s going to turn.”  
  
John looked to Mrs. Hudson who was on the ground shaking, against the back tire now. The bite on her shoulder was deep and still bleeding. John had to do something about that. She was pale, her lips were trembling as she attempted to hold back tears but they were escaping her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. This was his biggest fear, seeing someone he deeply cared about turn into one of those soulless creatures.  
  
“I can’t be one of them.” She spoke weakly, directly to John. “You can’t let that happen boys, please.”  
  
John looked up to the sky as if it had some answers, he wasn’t praying or hoping god would come down. He was just trying to think. “How long is it supposed to take?” He asked, to no one in particular.  
  
“Ah, about two hours or so.” Josh spoke up.  
  
“We’re doing what I said. If she doesn’t have the symptoms then there’s hope. I’m not leaving her here to…die.” His tongue felt heavy with the last word.  
  
Sherlock didn’t protest. He just picked Mrs. Hudson up like baby and carried her into the woods.

* * *

But the fever came on fast, before they could even set up a proper camp. They laid out her sleeping bag and rested her head on a pillow, hoping to give her some comfort after he dressed the wound. There was too much flesh missing, he couldn’t stitch it up. She was going to die from the bite at least. John hated that he couldn’t bring her to hospital and take care of her there. He could save her then.  Mrs. Hudson started to fade in and out of consciousness a half hour after the fever began. John was beside himself as a doctor and as a friend. All he could do was wet a cloth with some cool water from the river past the trees and check her vitals. She was going to pass away then be one of the undead. He couldn’t imagine someone who was so kind and sweet but at the same time sharp and witty as Mrs. Hudson turning into just a hunger driven body.  
  
John felt like he was going to be sick. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and looked up to his friends.  
  
Sherlock was pacing once more and John was starting to become worried about him. Mrs. Hudson was Sherlock’s mother, not biological but she was in every sense his mum. She took care of him, especially in those days he had been in recovering from addiction. He heard the stories of how she had visited Sherlock in the hospital and afterwards when he returned home she would bring him treats as an excuse to check up on him. Eventually she offered him the newly empty 221B. When they moved in she was always there make sure Sherlock was eating, even though John did a good job of it. Sherlock showed emotion for her on more than one occasion, he truly cared about her. John wondered if Sherlock had lost anyone, he knew his relationship with his family was probably just as good as John’s if not worse.  
  
“What are we going to do?” Sally said softly. She was sitting on her pack at Mrs. Hudson’s head.  
  
In the irrational part of John’s mind he thought if he just waited she would be better in a day or so but she was still losing blood and she was infected. That was a part of the steps of grief, wasn’t it? “I don’t know.”  
  
“We have to kill her, shoot her in the head. It’s the only way.” Sherlock said a bit too cold.  
  
Molly burst into tears and Greg reached out to rub her back.  
  
“Give it another hour.” John looked at his watch.  
  
“She’s suffering!” Sherlock shouted, throwing his arms up in the air. “You have to do something about it.”  
  
“We have to wait. She isn’t an animal, you don’t just _put_ people _down_.” He avoided eye contact with Sherlock, afraid he’d easily give into the man like so many times before.  
  
“Wait. Wait. Wait. That’s all we have been doing for days is wait. Wait for the rain. Wait until everyone had rested enough. Now wait to see if she doesn’t become one of them even though we know it is inevitable from all the reports. This is not going to change, John. She is infected and she’s dying, there is nothing to be done!” He stomped over to John, standing toe to toe with him.  
  
“You can wait a bloody hour more.” John clenched his jaw and finally looked into Sherlock’s eyes. He was trying his hardest to come off as detached but he was scared and sad. John wanted to reach out and hug him but instead he kept his arms at his side, “One more hour, Sherlock.”  
  
Sherlock backed down and they waited but things didn’t become any better. Mrs. Hudson’s fever spiked to the highest John had observed. Her organs began to shut down and she was paralysed. John sat there helpless by her side, unsure of what to do or say. Molly sobbed not too far from him and Sally held Mrs. H’s hand, patting it lightly, and occasionally wiping her face with the towel. Josh and Greg were keeping themselves busy by setting up camp. Sherlock perched on a log away from the rest of the group. He looked as if he was about to break.  
  
It seemed like the longest hour of John’s life. No one spoke, everyone sat looking distraught. Mrs. Hudson lay groaning in agony when she was in a somewhat conscious state.  
  
John reached out and felt Mrs. Hudson’s pulse when he noticed her breathing had ceased. He couldn’t find it. He leaned close to her chest and couldn’t hear the breath or a heart beat. “She’s gone.” John stood up, looking down at her frail body. Sally got off the ground as well, she backed away from the body to stand near Greg and Josh.  
  
“We need to shoot her in the head or decapitate her in order for her to not turn.” Sherlock finally spoke.  
  
John’s heart was in his throat, how could he possibly shoot or decapitate Mrs. Hudson? She wasn’t a nameless face that Sherlock threw random deductions about. “Fucking shoot her, Sherlock? You can be the one to do it. You’re the one without a heart, you soulless bastard.” John took the gun from the waistband of the trousers and shoved it in Sherlock’s direction.  
  
Sherlock looked down to the weapon then over at Mrs. Hudson. Without a word he took the gun and stalked over to the body. He placed the cloth over her face then looked to the rest of the group.  
  
“We’ll…ah, let's go sit in one of the tents?” Josh put his arm around Sally and gestured towards the tents a few steps from where they were.  
  
“Good idea, come on Molly.” Sally said after swallowing the lump in her throat. Greg practically had to carry poor Molly to the tent, she was shaking from her sobs.  
  
“Go on John.” Sherlock put the gun to the cloth.  
  
John couldn’t say anything. He just shook his head even though Sherlock had his back to him. As much as he didn’t want to be there he couldn’t let Sherlock do it on his own. His palms were sweaty and his throat was dry.  
  
Then he saw Mrs. Hudson’s leg and hand twitch, “No…NO, SHERLOCK, NO!” He started at him but didn’t get there in time. The shot rang out loudly in the air, echoing off the trees. The white cloth was now soaking in blood and brain matter.  
  
“You bastard!” He grabbed Sherlock by the shirt.  
  
“John, she turned.” He said fairly calm, his brow was crinkled in frustration. “You were the first to tell me about the process, you know what happened.”  
  
“She was alive. You killed her.” John was being hopeful, irrational, stupid. Everything Sherlock hated about him.  
  
“You’re a doctor, John. You know her fever was out of hand and the wound was far too deep to be tended to here. She was infected. You checked her vital signs after her last breath. She was dead. She turned. Don’t be an idiot.” Sherlock bit out.  
  
He reared back and punched Sherlock on the cheek.  
  
“John.” He heard Greg close behind him. “He’s right.”  
  
Sherlock looked at John with the saddest eyes he’d ever seen before wandering off into the woods towards the water.  
  
“All right, mate?” Greg put a hand on his shoulder. “This is the toughest day we’ve had, it’s going to be hard for everyone, especially you two. You understand how hard that was for Sherlock to do. You have to apologise and make sure he’s all right. He needs a friend right now.”  
  
“What about the body?”  
  
“We should bury it, there’s a shovel in the trunk. I’ll take Sally with me.”  
  
“Yeah, ah, ok.”  
  
“Go find him. We both know he may seem emotionless but he’s not.”  
  
John took a deep breath, looking down once more at the body of someone he cared for in front of him. This was war. He was going to have to soldier on. He was going to have to be strong for the group because they were looking to him. He was going to have to be strong for Sherlock because he had just shot someone he loved.

* * *

He found Sherlock sitting on a rock next to the bank of the river. John wasn’t sure what to say so he sat down next to him and reached for his face. There was a bruise blossoming where John had struck Sherlock on the cheek. He leaned over and lightly pressed his lips to the skin right below it then pulled back and ran his fingers through his hair.  
  
Sherlock’s eyes were filled with tears, he was holding himself together by a piece of string. John whispered, “I’m sorry.” _For hitting you. For me practically forcing you to shoot her. For yelling at you. For losing someone you loved. For making you wait. For everything. You were right, she turned. I was being an idiot._  
  
“Don’t be foolish, there’s nothing to be sorry for.” He tried to be strong but his voice betrayed him and a tear escaped his eyes. “I’m all right, John.” Sherlock wasn’t ok because he finally broke down and John’s heart shattered in his chest.  
  
John pulled Sherlock into a hug, wrapped his arm around the taller man who buried his face in the crook of his neck. John’s shirt and skin were soon wet with Sherlock’s tears. He pet Sherlock’s hair and rubbed his back, hoping to sooth his friend. They stayed like that for a while until Sherlock picked up the pieces and put himself back together.  
  
When he let go of John, Sherlock pressed his warm lips to John’s hungrily, as if he was in search of something. This type of kissing was new in a few different ways. It wasn’t a tired, almost reassuring snog that they shared hidden in the dark under covers. They were out in the open in the day and Sherlock was kissing John like he needed him more than air in his lungs. John wanted to enjoy it and give it all back in return but he couldn’t because he knew Sherlock was just reacting to his grief so he let himself be kissed, giving back just a fraction of what he wanted to. Eventually Sherlock pulled back, looking disappointed.  
  
They sat there quietly for a few more moments before going to back to camp. John helped Greg dig the grave and Sally gathered up rocks so they could mark the spot. Josh sat with Molly in the tent until they were ready to lay Mrs. Hudson to rest. While Sherlock sat, watching John work. John should have felt uncomfortable with the intense observation but he was used to it.

* * *

After burying Mrs. Hudson they all said a few words, except for Sherlock who stood next to John in stony silence. It had been awhile since he’d attended a funeral, his friends that died in war were buried when he was still away. They had ceremonies but no body or casket and he never had to lay dirt on top of someone. It was a different, terrible experience.  
  
“Wish I could find some good flowers.” Sally said as she placed the rocks around the freshly moved dirt. Everyone else had gone to start preparing dinner but John wanted to help Sally.  
  
“She would have liked that. She liked flowers. Sherlock would bring her some home every so often. He said that he got them from someone who he had solved a case for but I actually don’t think so.” John placed the last rock, completing the frame.  
  
Sally smiled, “I don’t really think he’s a psychopath. I mean, there was a time I did but…” She shrugged. “When you came along he changed. That’s why everyone makes comments about your relationship. I only call him names when he annoys me.”  
  
“I don’t know much about his past, he’s said things here and there but he was bullied as a kid. They called him a freak and made fun of him, that’s why he hates Josh and you. I’m sure he insulted you cross eyed the first time you met but that’s probably because you said something to him that made him put his guard up.”  
  
She nodded, “I feel bad for him. I’ve tried this week to be nice with him.”  
  
“I know and I’m sure it’s hard because he’s a right bastard.” John forced a smile.  
  
“You’re a good bloke, John. Best thing Sherlock ever had in his life, I’m sure.”  
  
John looked to the group around the small fire, “Let’s go eat.”  
  
“Good I’m famished.”  
  
That night Sherlock said he’d take the first watch and Lestrade said he’d stay up with him. John shared a tent with Molly, who was so emotionally worn out she fell asleep quickly. John on the other hand stayed awake, tossing and turning, thinking about the day. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the zombie biting Mrs. Hudson, he saw the bloody cloth, he saw Sherlock looking completely broken apart.  
  
He decided to get out of the tent for some fresh air. John found Greg near the fire, pushing the embers about with a stick. Sherlock was sitting in front of the grave, staring down at the dirt. John sat next to him the rest of the night.


	6. Trekking On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group continues their journey to Rye and John tries to talk to Sherlock about what had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Pat_is_fannish for the beta!

The morning after burying Mrs. Hudson the group packed silently before they began walking to their destination. John wished he didn’t have to leave her behind because he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to have a chance to go back to visit the grave. John was worried he wouldn’t even remember where they had buried her but then he looked to Sherlock who just nodded as if he knew what John was thinking: he’d remember, there was no doubt about that.  
  
The night before was spent sitting on the ground by the grave, at some point John had dozed off on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock woke him up when he heard some rustling in the trees but it was just a deer. They were awake one more hour before anyone else and John settled on massaging Sherlock’s scalp. He wanted to talk about what this was with them. Before the zombie apocalypse they had a couple of accidental cuddles on the sofa, well the first was an accident. After a case they were both so exhausted they ended up on the sofa and woke up in the morning tangled together. Following that it happened every so often, mostly after cases. They didn’t kiss until the night before they had left but ever since they’ve snogged when they were close to each other at night.  
  
He wasn’t sure if it was the need for reassurance that led to the contact. He was positive that Sherlock had kissed him so urgently after what had happened with Mrs. Hudson because he was looking for something to ground him, some physical contact. John could tell Sherlock felt a bit rejected after he didn’t reciprocate much for the kiss. He didn’t want to give it back to him because of what had just happened. They were both so emotional he was afraid the kiss would possibly progress to something more that he didn’t want to happen in the middle of the day on the forest floor.  
  
As they started to walk John let his mind wonder about Sherlock, trying to keep his mind off of the day previous. He wondered what mornings would be like with Sherlock, would he actually sleep in a bed? Would they talk about their pasts, surely Sherlock knew a lot about John’s former life but John only knew pieces of his. He wanted to know Sherlock inside and out, preferably doing so in the pale morning light. John always liked mornings with his partners the best because he loved to have a good lie in. He thought about a good morning with Sherlock, warm and soft morning sex then maybe a nap before some chatting. They’d have tea and toast in bed while they both read; Sherlock the newspaper and John a medical journal or a new book.  
  
 _But there are no more newspapers_. John flinched at his thought, remembering there was no more civilization. Or at least contact to one for them. There were no more crimes for Sherlock to solve, criminal masterminds to take down, people to shoot at them. For some reason he hadn’t really thought much about the topic since leaving London. It’s not like it was never brought up to him by the others or he assumed that he world was still moving with out them. He just didn’t put much thought into it.  
  
John wanted to know about the government and if Mycroft was still somewhere trying to stop it all. He felt like he was still alive somewhere but he never said anything to Greg because he didn’t want to get his hopes up.  
  
John didn’t talk to the others about their loved ones at all because he wasn’t sure the reaction he would get. Molly was already a bundle of emotions, he didn’t want to talk about her mum, dad, and sister after the one conversation he had attempted with her. Greg, Josh and Sally were holding themselves together fairly well so John didn’t want to pry and press either of them to a possible break down. He already knew what Sherlock’s response was likely to be so he didn’t bother. He also didn’t feel like talking about his family, at all so the subject was best avoided.  
  
John looked at Sherlock next to him. They were leading the group down the road, a few paces in front. He looked sad;  John had never seen him so down. “All right?”  
  
“Yes, John, just fine. If you’re worried about someone’s mental health you should really be checking up on Ms. Hooper.” He adjusted his pack on his shoulders.  
  
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about her or what happened?” John squinted at the other man in the sun. He had freckles on his nose from the constant exposure to the sun, _it’s odd I want to kiss each one, isn’t it?_  
  
“We talked enough yesterday.” They barely said a word about it. Sherlock said he was ok, he cried, they kissed, and later that night they sat by her grave for hours.  
  
“Can we talk about something? It doesn’t have to be about you or Mrs. Hudson. Just anything.” John was sick of the silence.  
  
“Your train of thought made you uncomfortable moments ago.”  
  
John shrugged, the man really could read minds.  
  
“I wish I had brought along my violin. I understand it would probably would have been burdensome to carry with me but I rather miss playing it.” Sherlock said, frowning deeply. “I’d like to raise bees when we get settled. The honey can be used for various things. I’d also like a proper cup of tea. I’m finding this heat is unbearable. Does that satisfy you?”  
  
“Ah, yeah.” John laughed a little then looked to Sherlock’s pack where the crossbow was hanging. “Can you actually shoot that? You haven’t done a thing with it.”  
  
“Of course I can, why would I own it?”  
  
“I don’t know why you own half the shite that’s back in London.”  
  
“Every thing I have has or had a purpose. I’m quite a skilled archer.”  
  
“You’re a crap shot with a gun.”  
  
“Two different weapons. I’ll show you once we get settled, we could set up some sort of competition to see who has the better shot.”  
  
John nodded, “Where’s this place we’re settling, Sherlock?”  
  
“I’m not sure yet. Possibly a home near the town. Find somewhere there that’s safe. I’m curious about the town itself. It could potentially be free of RLFs with such a small population but. If anything the RLFs there will be easily dealt with and there’s a potential to have access to various supplies and sustenance.”  
  
“I hope you’re right.”  
  
“I believe we have enough survival skills between the two of us to live a long life.”  
  
“Probably not happy.” He muttered under his breath.  
  
“Why not?” Sherlock cocked his head.  
  
“You’re already a nutter, I can’t imagine you without a case, without something for you to concentrate on.”  
  
“I’ll be concentrating on our survival.”  
  
“It’s not the same thing.”  
  
“I’ll continue my experiments.”  
  
“You don’t have any of your things.”  
  
Sherlock huffed, “I’ll find some. You’re concerned.”  
  
“’Course I am. Your mental well being _is_ important to the group.”  
  
“Ah, we’re back to Mrs. Hudson.”  
  
“No, I was talking about how ridiculous you are when you have nothing to work on. You are the one that jumped there.” John reached for the water bottle attached to the side of his pack.  
  
Sherlock grunted some type of response then stopped talking.  
 

* * *

It had been two days of walking and they were four hours from the town. Luckily their zombie encounters were not deadly. Sherlock was annoyed that the group wanted a rest before finishing their journey. He knew it was more reasonable to wait until daylight; he was being difficult. Sherlock had been being difficult for days. He would barely talk all day and at night he’d take different shifts from John, never really sleeping though. John was worried because he could see the exhaustion all over his face. So when it time came to assign shifts he managed it so he and Sherlock had the night off.  There wasn’t any protest.  
  
“Are you avoiding being alone with me?” John moved close to Sherlock, whispering so they couldn’t be over heard.  
  
“Yes because you’re being rather infuriating with worrying about my feelings.”  
  
“You had to shoot a woman who treated you like a son. You watched her die.”  
  
“We all watched her die, why are you not worried about yourself and the rest of the group?”  
  
“I’m still mourning her, I know I am and the rest probably are as well but it was different for you. You had a different relationship with her and what you did to save her from becoming one of them…we didn’t do. I should have done it.” John confessed. He should have shot her instead of forcing it on to his friend.  
  
“You’re the most ridiculous person that I’ve ever known.” Sherlock inched away from John.  
  
“Oh please, you have no room to speak. I’m just being honest though, I’m sorry for what I did.”  
  
“I’ve told you, you have nothing to apologise for.”  
  
“You lost someone and you only showed emotion-”  
  
“Yes, I showed emotion. That little cry in the woods…what do expect from me John? Do you want me to dress in all black and weep into a handkerchief with her initials on it?”  
  
John had to remind himself not to call him a prat because deep down Sherlock was hurting, “Right.”  
  
“I believe you forget who I am sometimes, John.”  
  
“I know exactly who you are.”  
  
“Do you?”  
  
John thought. He knew Sherlock was brilliant, and he showed little emotion. He liked Sherlock’s interest in his violin and bees. Sherlock loved crime but he could have easily been an actor or a scientist. He knew bugger all about astronomy or pop culture but he did appreciate how the stars were beautiful and enjoyed movies that John suggested. Sherlock suffered from chronic migraines and liked when John massaged his scalp. He knew Sherlock seemed to enjoy physical contact with him. He reached out and Sherlock batted his hand away, “I’m sorry about not-”  
  
“Please, John.” Sherlock rolled on to his side. “I’m quite tired. We need to be rested for tomorrow, finding a place to stay and all.”  
  
John buried his face into his pillow and groaned. He really didn’t know Sherlock did he? What he felt at least and that was important.


	7. Bees and Whisky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group finds a home on the edge of Rye.

John stood on the hill looking towards the town of Rye in the distance. There was a sense of relief after the long and agonising walk from London. But he was hesitant to go into the streets of the town. He wasn’t sure what they would encounter but what he was currently standing in front of was enough for now.  
  
On the hill behind him stood a large home. A stone fence boarded the property and the house itself two levels, painted brown. The house nearly sat on the ocean. The inside of the home was warm and inviting. There were enough bedrooms that only Josh and Sally had to share and one person also had to sleep on the couch. The kitchen was stocked with canned goods to last them at least a couple of weeks. There was also plenty of wine and whisky to have a party and John felt they needed a party. Sherlock deduced that the owners lived mostly in London and hadn’t been in the home for 2 months.  
  
Although they had two nights rest in a home before this one felt different. John felt like he was safer now that they had reached their destination. He was interested to see what Rye had to offer them. Maybe there was some type of civilisation in the town, hopefully the zombies didn’t wipe everyone out like they seemed to have done in London. Maybe they had crimes for Sherlock and medical problems for John and jobs in the local force for Sally, Greg, and Josh. Maybe there was something for Molly, surely she didn’t want to be at a morgue now.  
  
John sat down on the grass, taking a deep breath. It was hard not to think about how happy Mrs. Hudson would have been. She would have been knocking around the kitchen, fixing up some nibbles. She would be telling Sherlock that he had to eat because he was just skin and bone. John missed her more than he missed his family, it was probably a bit not good but Mrs. Hudson was a better mum to him in a short time than his actual mum.  
  
“John! John, come look!” Sherlock grabbed John by the bicep and pulled him towards the back of the house. John knew there was a garden in the back because he had seen it from the kitchen window but he wasn’t sure what could be so interesting to Sherlock.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Bees! They kept bees!”  
  
John hadn’t seen Sherlock enthusiastic about anything for close to a month. It was like someone told him about a good murder. “Brilliant!” John was happy to see him smile after the last few days he had suffered through Sherlock’s coldness.  
  
“This is fantastic. I won’t have to construct my own hives or find supplies. I was looking forward to that but this is all right.”  
  
Sherlock stopped John in front of two large white hives. He could hear the buzzing. This was something to keep Sherlock intrigued for some time. “Great.”  
  
“Yes, I thought so. There’s also plenty of honey in the shed.” Sherlock pointed to a small brown structure. “You should be pleased with that.”  
  
“I am, this is all so…unbelievable.”  
  
“Yes. We should still reinforce the doors and windows on the first floor. I know it’s been sometime since we’ve seen an RLF but we’re close to a town we could be seeing more.”  
  
“Yeah, Greg, Sally, and Josh are doing that.” John nodded. “How do you feel about having a party tonight, Sherlock?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Food, drink. We could cook over a fire since you’re obsessed with conserving the energy in the house.” Molly had been screamed at for turning a light switch on when they first entered.  
  
“There’s actually a grill hidden in the shed as well and a freezer with a few different meats, not a lot but I’d like to turn the freezer off soon to conserve.”  
  
John felt a grin break out across his face, “Bloody hell, this place is fantastic. We’re lucky! You did well, Sherlock.”  
  
“Yes, well I assumed there would some vacation homes around. We were just fortunate this home has everything we need. There’s no such thing as luck though.”  
  
He leaned on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s check. Sherlock shook his head and stepped away, “You should help the others. They have no idea what they’re doing.”  
  
John frowned, his happiness fading a bit.

* * *

They settled into their new home. John helped finish reinforcing the doors. He and Greg talked about building a taller fence around the house to feel a bit more secure. Sherlock commandeered the master suite because, he argued, that if he and John had to alternate between the bed and the sofa they should be able to get the best room. No one argued. Everyone seemed too happy to say a thing.  
  
When it was time for dinner they all went to work on cooking. The wine had already been flowing by the time the fist piece of beef hit the grill. Greg was in charge of the barbeque while Molly picked some of the canned vegetables for sides. Sally and Josh set the patio table that was in the middle of the garden. The garden looked a bit sad but John knew someone in the house would eventually take care of it out of boredom. By the time dinner was served everyone was starving so they ate and drank in silence. John felt like a king, he hadn’t had food so good in what seemed like an eternity. Even Sherlock looked pleased with the meal, he ate every last scrap on his plate.  
  
After dinner Greg brought out the whisky, “Oh, no, I’m done.” Molly held her stomach. “I’m already a bit pissed from the wine.”  
  
“More for us!” Sally poured a shot of the amber liquid into each of the other’s cups. She set the bottle down and picked up her glass. “To us, finding our way.”  
  
“Cheers.” They all said in unison, clinking cups before taking the shot. It burned down John’s throat, eventually warming his stomach.  
  
“Sherlock, you didn’t look anyone in the eye when we toasted.” Josh pointed out as he poured the next round.  
  
“Is that seven years of no sex or bad sex?” Sally pondered with a finger to her chin.  
  
John couldn’t help himself by laughing sharply and abruptly. Everyone looked to him. “What?”  
  
“Is my sex life funny to you, Dr. Watson?”  
  
“I don’t think you have one.”  
  
“Ah, bugger, looks like I owe you fifty quid.” Greg said to Molly, who blushed.  
  
“What?” Sherlock cocked an eyebrow.  
  
“Greg thinks we’re shagging. Everyone thinks we’re shagging, except Molls apparently. Ta, love.” He took the second shot then grabbed the bottle after giving the clarification to Sherlock.  
  
Sherlock scoffed and turned up his nose, “For your information I’ve had numerous sexual partners. I just find the romantic entanglement a bit too consuming and messy. Also, John and I have never engaged in coitus.”  
  
“He doesn’t need anyone.” John shook his head. He could feel a blush in his cheeks and he wasn’t sure if it was the liquor or the topic. “He’s fine without companionship.”  
  
“Bollocks! You both,” Sally took a sip of her wine. “You both love each other. You may not be shagging but you should be. Bloody in love with each other. All you two do is look at each other at crime scenes, giggle like little girls over decapitated bodies! Only person who could put up with this bastard is you, John. Peas in a pod. Match made in heaven…maybe hell.”  
  
“You all have nothing better to do than,” He hiccupped, “make up a romantic connection between John and myself.”  
  
John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn’t like the conversation and wished he had kept his mouth shut.  
  
“Sherlock, are you anyway a part of the line of succession?” Greg changed the subject, as if he could see his friend a bit tense over the current topic. He was looking at the raven-haired man thoughtfully.  
  
Sherlock squinted, “What are you on about?”  
  
“Just curious if we’re in the presence of the new king.” The DI shrugged with a twinkle in his eye.  
  
Sherlock let the most ridiculous laugh John had ever heard him do around anyone but him. Clearly he had far too much to drink.  
  
“I believe you’d know all the Holmes secrets because you were shagging my brother.” The consulting detective poured himself some more whisky with a heavy hand. “Mycroft is a Baron though, surely you know that.”  
  
“I actually did not.” Greg looked into his empty glass.  
  
“You’re going to make a lovely baroness, sir.” Sally giggled, and Greg smiled again but tried to look put off at the suggestion. John hoped to God that Mycroft was still alive somewhere in some bunker for Greg’s sake.  
  
“Mummy would be _so_ happy.” Sherlock’s words dripped with sarcasm. “I need a cigarette.” John watched his fingers twitch.  
  
The doctor licked his lips, “Right, so you can smoke that whole pack you found in a night then go through nicotine withdrawals.”  
  
Sherlock made a noise then swatted his hand before going for another drink.  
  
“I hid them, find them and you can do as you please.”  
  
“That’s hardly a challenge, Doctor. You’re extremely predictable when it comes to things like this.” The consulting detective went to stand but tittered, caught himself, started to walk, and then tripped over the foot of his chair.  
  
“Sherlock!” John shoot up from his seat, feeling a bit dizzy as well but he was at Sherlock’s side in a couple of seconds. Everyone else was on their feet peering over at him.  
  
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Sherlock slurred.  
  
“I don’t believe you are.”  
  
“Someone can’t handle their alcohol.” Sally smirked.  
  
“I can handle alcohol just fine, thank you.” Sherlock stood up with a helping hand from John after the doctor was satisfied there weren’t any injuries.  
  
“You should lie down.”  
  
“Always the doctor.”  
  
“Come on.” John put his hand on Sherlock’s forearm.

* * *

John got Sherlock into bed after practically pushing him up the stairs to his room. He figured Sherlock could use the bed more than he could. “You really can’t drink well.”  
  
Sherlock groaned and turned on to his back.  
  
“Can you stay on your side?” He asked as he worked on taking off his mate’s shoes.  
  
“I am not going to vomit.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“Are you going to stay here?” Sherlock almost sounded shy.  
  
“I was going to help clean and secure the house.” John sat at Sherlock’s feet.  
  
“I’d much rather you stay here.” Sherlock closed his eyes. “’s better when you’re here.”  
  
John opened his mouth but nothing came out. It was probably the nicest thing Sherlock had ever said to him aside from him being a conductor of light. That was quite nice as well. Although he also said John was not a genius then so this was the better one. Sherlock didn’t say nice things about people, even Mrs. Hudson. If he did it was normally to get something done on a case but this was a genuine moment.  
  
After a few moments of listening to Sherlock’s steady breathing John kicked his trainers off and climbed into bed next to his friend. It wasn’t very late but he was tipsy and exhausted from the journey so John let himself drift off to sleep without much thought.  
  
He was sure it wasn’t very long between closing his eyes to hearing Sherlock vomiting in the en suite bathroom. The doctor took a moment to get his bearings, feeling a bit foggy, before attending to his friend.  
  
Sherlock was resting his forehead on the toilet seat with his hands clasped behind his head as if he was under arrest. “That’ll teach you to try to out drink a Watson.”  
  
Sherlock just made a guttural noise.  
  
“I’m going to find your water bottle, don’t…move.” John figured his friend was not going anywhere so he left him to find his pack. It was on the floor by the closet in the room.  
  
When he stepped back into the room Sherlock was getting sick again, “I thought you weren’t vomiting.”  
  
“Fuck…fuck off.” Sherlock coughed out before resting his forehead again.  
  
John took a sip of the water before setting it by Sherlock because he felt a bit dehydrated as well. “I’ve never seen you drunk, you know? This is first.” He reached out and rubbed soft circles on his back.  
  
“Do not talk.” His voice was hoarse, it almost didn’t sound like him.  
  
“Glad to see you’re the same old Sherlock” John removed his hand.  
  
“I didn’t say stop rubbing my back.”  
  
John smiled to himself before returning his hand.  
  
They stayed like that until Sherlock didn’t feel as if the world was continuously flipping on him. John helped him to bed, for the second time in the night, and they both drifted off to sleep.


	8. Hungover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock talk about their relationship, kind of.

By the looks of it was probably around nine in the morning when John woke up again. He figured he should get up and start the first day of his new life. He wanted to begin some kind of routine to keep up his physical strength but he didn’t feel up to it at all. It wasn’t that he was severely hungover, John just wasn’t feeling up to do a thing. He thought about planning the fence idea with Greg. Or maybe look around the garden to see what he could do to help it. But the bed was so comfortable and warm. He did deserve some type of day off after the horrid trek from London. It was the end of the world, he’d have plenty of time to do chores later.  
  
“Stop thinking.” Sherlock buried his face into the pillow.  
  
“Sorry.” John chuckled. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Dehydrated, you didn’t give me water.”  
  
“You wouldn’t drink it, you stubborn arse.” John moved closer to Sherlock and nestled his fingers into his hair. “Would you like me to see what I can scare up to take care of your hangover?” He spoke softly while he ran his fingers through Sherlock’s dark curls.  
  
“This is adequate for now.”  
  
John moved so they could be a bit more comfortable. He sat against the headboard and rested Sherlock’s head on his lap. He settled in and thought, quietly, about what Sherlock had said the night before. He needed to talk to Sherlock about it their relationship and John knew it would be like pulling teeth.  
  
“Are you through ignoring me?” John lightly ran his fingers over Sherlock’s forehead.

Sherlock opened one eye to look up at John, “I was not ignoring you. I’ve been rather annoyed with you and your endless attempts to start a conversation about how I _feel_ about the incident with Mrs. Hudson.” He closed his eye.  
  
“You’ve been avoiding me,” John took a deep breath, “Physically.”  
  
“What are we doing right now?”  
  
“You’re hungover and having me massage your scalp to take care of your headache.”  
  
“Yes and is that not physical contact?”  
  
“You haven’t let me…kiss you.” John hated that he had to have this conversation. There were moments when he wanted to be like Sherlock and not have to talk about things like this.  
  
“Must we talk about this? It’s been two weeks since we’ve first kissed. I thought we were going to be able to be proceed without talking about it and let our relationship be as we have for the last year and a half.”  
  
“But it’s different now.”  
  
“The only difference between our relationship now is that we snog a bit and have a cuddle now and then.”  
  
“Is it because the world’s ended?” John pondered.  
  
“The world hasn’t ended. We still exist. Civilisation has ended, the world as we know it with it.”  
  
“Would we have snogged if-”  
  
“John, you are only making my headache worse now.” He squeezed his eyes shut tighter.  
  
“I just want to understand what’s happening here.” John said quietly.  
  
“I would snog you right now to shut you up but I don’t believe you’d appreciate it if I vomited on you.” Sherlock rested his hands on his stomach, his brow furrowed in thought but his eyes were still closed. “I’m not sure I understand, John. Are you looking to change the nature of our relationship? You’re the one that protests any hint of the two of us being involved. You’re not even gay.”  
  
“I’m bisexual, Sherlock. Thought that was obvious.”  
  
“Mmmhmmm but what about the protesting?”  
  
“Relationships aren’t your area. I didn’t want to let people think-”  
  
“Yes but you clearly are my area.” He said begrudgingly. “If we keep discussing this I may vomit.”  
  
“All right. I just want to get this straight before I let you rest.”  
  
“If you must.”  
  
“We’re…together and I can kiss you whenever I want but you do realise since that snog after what we’ll just call The Incident, you’ve shut me down. I wanted to let you know I’m sorry about not giving you as much as you gave me in that kiss.”  
  
“You are ridiculous.” Sherlock snorted.  
  
“I didn’t want anything to happen then.”  
  
“Sex?”  
  
“Yes, sex.”  
  
“It wouldn’t have. I would never roll around in the dirt like that.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust.  
  
“Your emotions were running high.”  
  
“I can’t bare listening to this anymore.”  
  
“You’ve forgiven me though? I wasn’t rejecting you.”  
  
Sherlock swatted at the air, “If I must.”  
  
“You don’t have to.”  
  
“John, please accept my forgiveness so we can move on.”  
  
“Right, ok.” This was the most he would probably ever get out of Sherlock so he accepted it.  
  
“Excellent, return to getting rid of my headache.”  
  
“Git.”

* * *

Once John made Sherlock drink some water and wash up the detective was feeling much better. The two men went to the main level of the house where heir friends were in the sitting room chatting about the possibilities in Rye. “We could go today.”  
  
“No one is in good enough shape today.” John sat on the floor next to Sherlock. Molly, Greg, and Sally were on the sofa while Anderson occupied the matching forest green chair.  
  
“Yeah, you’re right. Sherlock, how’s the hangover?” Greg raised an eyebrow. “You’re looking a bit worn.”  
  
“Not as much as you, I’m sure.”  
  
“Certainly the good doctor did all he could to make Sherlock feel better.” Sally teased.  
  
John looked to Sherlock, unsure if he should say anything about their relationship.  
  
“I thought you learned last night we have not shagged.” Sherlock studied Greg. “You’ve been smoking, Lestrade.”  
  
“John stashed the cigarettes in Molly’s pack.”  
  
“Bastard.” He narrowed his eyes on John. “Give me one.”  
  
“No.” Greg laughed. “They’re all mine now.”  
  
“John.” Sherlock practically pouted.  
  
“No, I’m not some one on the street you can fool to get something from me. Plus, I don’t know where Greg has them.”  
  
Sherlock dramatically stood up and swept to the kitchen.  
  
“Bloody hell, I can’t be that obvious.” Greg whispered.  
  
“In the cookie jar? Honestly Lestrade…” Sherlock bellowed from the kitchen. “I’ll be outside watching the bees since I know John would complain if I smoked inside. Plus I need some time to think.”  
  
John stood up from the floor with a groan, “You can’t go out there alone. You’ll get caught up in their flying patterns or something and a zombie will come…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.  
  
“Then come along, John. Not as exciting as a crime scene, to you at least. Unless if you’re allergic, not very dangerous either.” Sherlock snickered, popping his head back into the sitting room.  
  
John followed Sherlock out to the back, after checking to see if the yard was safe. Sherlock went over to the hives and John took a seat where they had dinner the previous night. He watched Sherlock take out a cigarette and light it as he surveyed the bees.  
  
Sherlock flopped down on the ground, after finishing his cigarette, like a frustrated child a few steps from the hives. “John?”

“What is it?”  
  
“Tomorrow, we’re going to town.”  
  
“Ok.” John rested his head on his hand, studying Sherlock’s long, lean back.  
  
“Why are you so far away?”  
  
“Thought you wanted to think.”  
  
“I do but I can’t with your eyes on me all the way over there.”  
  
The corners of John’s lips pulled into a smile, “Right then.” He stalked over to Sherlock and sat next to him.  
  
“You didn’t tell them. Why?” The detective studied John’s face. “You’re not ashamed of our relationship.”  
  
“No, I’m not. I’m just…I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I rather not deal with the ‘I told you so’ from them. I also wasn’t sure if you wanted me to say anything.”  
  
“I don’t care. I never protested against our relationship before.”  
  
“Yeah and we weren’t together when people made those assumptions.”  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes. The doctor was clearly exhausting him. “We are as we have always been.”  
  
John nodded. They weren’t as the always had been. It wasn’t until after Moriarty had strapped the explosives to his chest that they had started to cuddle. It wasn’t until then that Sherlock seemed to need the constant reassurance that John was near. But he didn’t want to say things he was sure Sherlock had already known.  
  
“Our relationship has evolved, so yes I guess we have changed. I also feel you make me dumb at times so that part of me has changed recently.” Sherlock made a face as if he had sucked on a lemon.  
  
John went to open his mouth in defense but Sherlock immediately cut him off, “Hormones, tedious.”  
  
“Sorry you’re sexually attracted to me.”  
  
“Yes, as you should be.”  
  
John just shook his head. “What else were you thinking about?”  
  
“I need to reorganise my mind palace. There has been an overload of new information recently.”  
  
“How long will that take?”  
  
“Possibly a full day, maybe two.”  
  
“Do you want to do it before we go to Rye? You’ve been a bit, ah, out of sorts lately. Maybe it would help?”  
  
“I’d rather not waste another day.”  
  
John put his hand on Sherlock’s upper thigh, “Your mind palace, do as you please.”  
  
“I’d like to kiss you right now.”  
  
“I’ve never heard you to ask for permission to kiss or touch me yet.” John leaned in and brushed his nose against Sherlock’s.

“They could be watching.”  
  
“I don’t care.” He whispered against Sherlock’s lips.  
  
“You’re the one who does not want to ‘deal with’ them.”  
  
John let out a sigh before kissing Sherlock, slowly savoring his lips. Even though he tasted like cigarettes he didn’t care.  
  
Someone let out a ‘whoop’ behind them, causing the two men to break apart.  
  
“Yeah, right, you aren’t shagging?” Sally yelled from the door.  
  
“We’ll have zombies crawling over the place if you do not lower you voice.” Sherlock said harshly.  
  
“You can not deny this anymore.”  
  
Sherlock flicked his wrist to shoo her away.  
  
“Well I’m going back inside then.” She grinned before turning back in.  
  
“You knew she was there, didn’t you?” John lay back a bit dramatically. Sherlock was apparently rubbing off on him.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
John just laughed. “Come down here and snog me.”  
  
“Gladly.” Sherlock practically crawled on top of John.

* * *

After making out like teenagers on the lawn Sherlock wanted tea and biscuits. John obliged, even though he was afraid of what he’d encounter from their friends.  
  
“You’ll let me use energy to make you tea, typical.” John muttered as he looked through the collection of tea.  
  
Sherlock just sat on the countertop watching with a soft smile on his face.  
  
Greg, Molly, Josh, and Sally all filtered into the kitchen. Separately. Not all at once because that would be obvious. John kept his back to them and just focused on the kettle.  
  
“So, how long as this been…going on? You’re quite the actors.”  
  
“Since the 29th of January, 2010.” Sherlock drawled out. “So close to a year and a half. If you want the exact time I could do that for you.”  
  
“My god and you two have been carrying on-”  
  
John cut Greg off, “No, no we haven’t been together, like that.”  
  
Sherlock snorted.  
  
“Sherlock does not seem to think that there’s a difference in our relationship then and now. Which there is, not a big one but…” John finally turned around to look at them.  
  
“So when’s this now part? People have money on this.” Josh cocked an eyebrow.  
  
“We haven’t shagged if that’s what your bet is on.” John felt his cheeks turning pink.  
  
Sally scoffed, “You’re not lying, are you?”  
  
“No, we are not.”  
  
“This conversation is actually lowering my IQ, I can feel it.” Sherlock twisted his face, as if he was in serious pain.  
  
“Fine, we’ll drop it. Just tell us when the now part started, Josh is right. We do have a few quid riding on it.”  
  
“Not until the night before we found you at the pub, I guess.” There was the cuddling before that but it was just too complicated for John to explain.  
  
“Of course you two fall in love with each other at the end of the bloody world.”  
  
John just smiled and turned back to the kettle.


	9. Rye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock, John, Sally, and Greg go into Rye.

John woke up with a start at four in the morning. He had a nightmare about Sherlock getting torn apart by zombies. Blood. Flesh. Screams. Pain. It reminded him of his former nightmares.  
  
Of course the man was not next to him or in the bathroom or sitting by the window. John jumped out of bed and went down stairs, hoping that he was there. He knew it was irrational to think that his dream meant Sherlock was going to be devoured. He could not kill the thought until he found the other man pacing the floor in the living room though. “All right?”  
  
Sherlock just ignored John.  
  
“Ok, I’m just going to kip down here.” John curled up on the sofa, pulling the blanket from the back of it over him.  
  
He watched Sherlock pace back and forth for a half an hour or so. Eventually, he stopped abruptly and studied John’s face.  
  
“You had a nightmare, you haven’t had a nightmare since you began sleeping next to me.” Sherlock frowned.  
  
“Yeah, well…it happens.” John yawned.  
  
“I wasn’t sleeping next to you when it happened though.” His frown deepened.  
  
“It’s ok, not your fault. Are you all right?”  
  
“Yes, fine. I was starting to reorganise. All that data floating about was making it extremely difficult to fall asleep.”  
  
“You haven’t slept?”  
  
“Do keep up.”  
  
“We’re going the village today, I wanted you rested.”  
  
“I’ve gone longer on cases without sleep. I will be fine.” Sherlock finally stopped moving. “I’m done for now, temporary fix.”  
  
“Get over here and lie with me, at least, for a few hours.”  
  
Sherlock hesitated then joined John on the sofa. After a few minutes, John was drifting off to sleep but Sherlock bit John’s neck, jolting him back to full consciousness. “What was that for?”  
  
“I’m bored.”  
  
John rubbed his eyes. “Go to sleep.”  
  
“Mmm, boring.”  
  
“Yes but we’re going to do something a bit exciting in a few hours.”  
  
“That’s even less motivation to get me to sleep.”  
  
“Of course.” John chuckled.  
  
“I don’t believe we should bring Molly along.” Sherlock squeezed John around his waist. “She’s far too unstable and also has nothing to offer.”  
  
“We can’t leave her here alone.”  
  
“Anderson can stay behind with her.”  
  
“Sherlock-”  
  
“Shut up, love.”  
  
“Love?” John sputtered. “What?”  
  
“Oh, I was just trying something new. Not good?”  
  
“It doesn’t sound right.”  
  
“Ok, I won’t call you a pet name.”  
  
“Good because it’s a bit odd from your mouth.”  
  
“I assumed you appreciated things like that. You call Molly and Mrs. Hudson, love.” He could practically hear the frown in Sherlock’s voice.  
  
“Ah, if you wanted to-”  
  
“No, no it’s…you’re right it’s odd. It’s not something we should do. I just figured couples do that.”  
  
“Hmm, so you’re changing our relationship?” John said teasingly.  
  
“We are ever evolving, John.”  
  
The doctor just smiled, “Right ok. Back to what you were saying; I understand why you want Molly to stay here but why Anderson?”  
  
“He has no skills that are of use. He can’t shoot a gun. His survival skills are close to none.”  
  
“So just Greg, Sally, and the two of us?”  
  
“Yes. If the world needs repopulation and we perish at least Molly and Josh can do so. Oh, those poor, poor stupid children they will have.”  
  
“Sherlock!”  
  
Sherlock scoffed, “Pity I’m gay.”  
  
“Yes, pity the world is missing out on more stubborn, arrogant, arses.” John snickered. “We’ll let the group decide what they want to do. If anyone should stay behind it will be decided among all of us.”  
  
“Fine.” The detective moved a hand up John’s side. “Your shoulder has been bothering you.”  
  
“Yeah, carrying the pack and sleeping on the ground will cause some problems.”  
  
“We should go to bed.”  
  
“Useless, I can’t sleep now. I’ll make us some tea and toast. It’s nearly five now.”

* * *

In the end Molly and Josh stayed behind at the house. To John’s surprise there wasn’t too much resistance from Josh. That may have been because John had suggested it rather than Sherlock telling the man he was an idiot and has no skills. John told him someone needed to stay behind with Molly and he was logical pick because he wasn’t trained to handle a gun. He was a bit upset but he didn’t become too angry. Molly was almost ecstatic that she didn’t have to go. She had more than enough zombies in her time.  
  
The walk to Rye was close to an hour from the house on the hill. It was done mostly in quiet. John could practically feel Sherlock vibrating with anticipation. He was positive Sherlock was hoping for the town to be filled with people so he could have new things to deduce. John didn’t say anything to him about it because he knew the consulting detective would immediately brush off John by saying he was happy there was an apocalypse to wipe out all the idiots.  
  
The four of them were fairly quiet all the way down. John was beginning to hate the quiet even more. He missed the noises of London. Sherlock’s violin. Mrs. Hudson yelling up to them about a client. The country was quiet, even with his mates. He always hated the quiet and calm. He could never sleep properly in Afghanistan when it was deafeningly silent. When he came home from the war and sat alone in his bed-sit he was wishing for something to go boom. _But at least I had the background noise of London, right? No, you idiot you weren’t ok with London until Sherlock._ John shook his head. His inner voice was starting to sound like the lanky man next to him.  
  
To everyone’s disappointment there seemed to be no one in the town. “We should start looking at these flats and shops. See what we can take.” John looked into a window of an empty flat. “I’m sure there’s plenty around here we can use.”  
  
“Yes, yes, of course.” Sherlock was pouting.  
  
“Sherlock-”  
  
“Can we move on?” The detective interrupted John.  
  
“Why don’t we go up the high street?” Greg suggested. “Maybe there’s someone-”  
  
“Oh, please Lestrade. There hasn’t been anyone in this town for three weeks! The people have either all evacuated or turned. There’s no sign of human life!” Sherlock snapped at the DI.  
  
Sally rubbed her face, “Maybe this part of town but we haven’t-”  
  
“Shut up Sally!”  
  
“Sherlock, don’t be an arse.”  
  
“Oi, freak! Thought we had an agreement.”  
  
“We did while we were travelling.”  
  
“Sherlock.” John warned.  
  
“Shut up, John.”  
  
John bit his tongue. The man was in a strop. There wasn’t a thing anyone could say to make him stop.  
  
The consulting detective took a few steps away from the group and swatted a hand at the others as if to say ‘don’t follow me’. He had his typical new case face on. John couldn’t figure out what he had discovered.  
  
“What are you on to Sherlock?”  
  
Sherlock perked up suddenly like some type of dog, after staring at the pavement for some time, then took off in a full sprint down the road. “Oh, you arse.” John muttered. “Come on,” He yelled to Sally and Greg as he went after him.  
  
“Sherlock?” Greg called as the rounded the corner but he was no where to be found.  
  
“I’m going to kill him.” John looked down another street. “Sherlock! WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU?”  
  
When they reached the next street they practically came face to face with a mob of RLF’s,  
  
“There’s plenty of different streets.” Greg’s voice was barley audible.  
  
John’s heart was pounding in his ears. He thought he was going to pass out.  
  
They went unobserved by the zombies but it wasn’t until a few blood curdling screams they figured out why. John made a move to the mob but he felt four hands grab him and pull him back. “If it’s him we can’t do anything now.”  
  
“SHERLOCK!” John wailed so loud his voice gave out. This was his nightmare.  
  
“John, you need to be quiet.” Greg pulled him back towards another street, clapping a hand over his mouth. “We can’t stay here, we have to move on or get out of the town.”  
  
John’s knees gave out from under him and there was a sharp pain in his chest. All he kept thinking was Sherlock. He was chanting the man’s name like a prayer over and over again in his head.  
  
“We can’t leave.” He managed to get out even though it felt as if he was being strangled.  
  
“We can not stay here.” Greg looked over his shoulder.  
  
“John, it’s Sherlock,” Sally crouched next to him. “If anyone can survive it’s him.”  
  
“But-” There was another guttural scream.  
  
“John.” Sally’s voice was pleading. “Please, we have to go.”  
  
“We need to look-”  
  
“We’ll look in other parts of the town but we have to get out of here, right now.” Greg pulled John up to his feet “We’ll go up and over a street. We’ll keep looking.”  
  
John followed Greg mindlessly as they searched the town. They went up and down every single street it seemed, avoiding the mob. They ran into seven RLF’s, separately, and Greg and Sally killed each swiftly. Everything was a blur in John’s eyes. He couldn’t focus on a thing. All he wanted was Sherlock to appear around the next corner or on top of one of the flats but he didn’t. He wasn’t anywhere. They went in and out of flats and shops that looked broken into but there was nothing.

“It’s getting dark, we need to head back to the house.” Sally adjusted her pack.  
  
“We can’t leave him here alone.” John’s voice broke. “I can’t leave him behind. I’ve never left him before.”  
  
“John, he could be home right now looking at the sodding bees.” Greg tried his best to sound sure but doubt was dripping from every word.  
  
With tears in his eyes John gave into Sally and Greg. They had spent the entire day in the town searching for Sherlock, if he were alive then he would have made it known to them. Sherlock was anything but stupid. John did have some hope that possibly, maybe he was stuck in a flat somewhere in town surrounded by zombies. That thought never lasted very long because he remembered the scream. He never heard Sherlock scream in pain so he had no comparison but he knew from Sherlock there hadn’t been people in town for weeks.  
  
John didn’t speak on the hour walk back to the house, holding back the sobs that were building up in his body. John walked right passed Molly and Josh who looked at the group questionably. John made his way up the stairs, hoping no one was following him. He firmly closed the door behind him and collapsed on the floor in tears. His lungs and throat burned as he sobbed on the carpet.


	10. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock returns with some guests.

John wasn’t sure how long he was on the floor of his new bedroom but it felt like an eternity. He contemplated just giving up but how could he leave behind his friends? That was the problem with suicide now for him. John had people who cared about him and depended on him, he couldn’t just leave. If he had pulled the trigger before he had met Sherlock then none of this would have happened. But it did and he had to deal with it or he would hurt the rest of the group.  
  
When he finally calmed down he thought about sleeping. Maybe he’d wake up and find out it was all just a terrible nightmare. John couldn’t pull himself off the ground and the bed was so far away. He just stayed where he was, listening to the clock on the wall ticking. He was going to have to do something about that.  
  
Out of the deafening silence thundered Greg’s voice, “JOHN! IT’S SHERLOCK! QUICK! BRING YOUR KIT!”  
  
He wasn’t sure he was really dreaming that.  
  
“JOHN!” Molly’s voice was outside his door. She slowly opened it and popped her head in. Her eyes were red but she looked over joyed. “John, he’s-he’s alive but he has a pretty bad cut on his leg. One of us has to stitch him up. I’ll do it but I’m used to working on the dead so…ah…you might be better and not leave much of a scar.”  
  
John felt a bit dizzy again, “He’s ok?”  
  
“Yes but I’m afraid if you don’t stitch him up soon, he could loose too much blood.”  
  
Finally the doctor switch in his brain flicked on and he grabbed his kit and followed Molly down stairs to the kitchen. Sherlock was sitting on a chair with his legs propped up on another. His right trouser leg was rolled up to his knee, revealing a long jagged gash on his calf. It was bleeding although it looked as if it had clotted at one point. Sherlock himself looked far more pale than normal and a bit tired.  
  
“You were crying,” Were the first words out of his frowning mouth and the first words said by anyone since John had stepped into the room.  
  
“I thought you were dead you great big git! Once you’re sewed up and moving about again I’m chinning you. You fucking deserve it. You deserted me. You promised never to do that again.” He set his things on the table and pulled another chair over. “Molls, love, could you grab me some clean towels.”  
  
“You’re quite emotional, not sure if I want you stitching me up. Maybe Molly will be better.” Sherlock gave a strained laugh, trying to lighten up John’s mood.  
  
“No, no, jabbing a needle into your skin is what’s going to calm me down. Remember Sherlock, blood, guts, bones, guns, chasing criminals across London, killing zombies…that stuff stops my hand from shaking and my leg from aching.”  
  
“Bit not good, Doctor.” Sherlock hissed as John began to clean around the wound with alcohol.  
  
“Same to you.” He mumbled as he got his things together. “How much blood have you lost?” John asked seriously as he threaded his needle.  
  
“Not enough for a transfusion.”  
  
“Honestly?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“How’d it happen? What happened when you took off on us, you fucking prick?” John spoke the last words harshly, as if he had just remembered how angry he needed to be at him.  
  
“I saw a teddy bear on the ground. It wasn’t damp so it was dropped recently because there was rain around three o’clock this morning.” Sherlock explained. “I unfortunately ran into a mob that was tearing apart a few people.”  
  
“Then I broke the window to help him in and he sliced his leg right open. Made us go to the roof of the flat and got us to a safer location until we got our acts together.” John’s head snapped to his right to see a redheaded girl in her early twenties. Next to her was a bloke a bit older than her with the same hair and same green eyes. To his right by the counter was another young man with blond hair and a round face, watching a girl with curly black hair around the age of three coloring intently.  
  
“Well I’m not sure how good it is that you just realised there were other people in the room.” Sherlock huffed.  
  
“Shut up, you prat.”  
  
“Is he really like this all time?” The blond asked.  
  
John just nodded.  
  
“This one loves him anyway.” Sally rolled her eyes. “I’m going to beat you for doing that, you know?”  
  
“I can’t believe we’re in the presence of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.” The young man with red hair said. No sign of sarcasm.  
  
John looked up from his work, quirking an eyebrow at Sherlock.  
  
“End of the bloody world and I run into people who read your sodding blog! I thought all those ones would have been wiped out by now. I was teased about the solar system, John! I get them away from the mob and save them and all I get is an earful about the solar system!”  
  
John just smiled as he went continued sewing Sherlock’s leg. “So, who are you lot?”  
  
“I’m Aife.” The girl said. “This is my brother Keaghan.”  
  
“I can speak for myself. I am your older brother.”  
  
“Strong Celtic names.” John commented.  
  
“Yeah, mum’s doing.” Aife said affectionately.  
  
“Aife was a great woman warrior in Celtic myth.” Sherlock explained then gritted his teeth for a moment in some pain management. “I don’t put much into names as they do not make people’s personalities but Aife has lived up to her warrior name today, I must say. She’s very skilled with a cross bow.”

“You know the origin of Aife’s name but not the solar system.” Greg threw his head back in a laugh.  
  
“There was a serial murderer who used Celtic myth-”  
  
“Of course that’s how you know it.”  
  
“Anyway, you are…” John looked to the blond.  
  
“Nick, sir.”  
  
“He called you sir because Nick is a Second Lieutenant in Her Majesty’s Army and as we established he reads your blog, Captain. I don’t believe he did that on purpose though.”  
  
John rolled his eyes at Sherlock. “The wee one?”  
  
“She’s Lily.” Nick answered. “Her, ah, mum was one of the ones attacked today…” He said softly.  
  
John wasn’t sure what to say so he just focused on fixing Sherlock’s leg for a while. The group stayed in an uncomfortable silence. “He didn’t walk on this too long. Don’t tell me he let you carry him, I can’t even get him to go in an ambulance to hospital.”  
  
“No, we found a car.” Aife said. “We had to kill some zombies in order to get to it, part of what took us so long to get here.”  
  
“We have car?” John smiled. “That’s brilliant.”  
  
“This one is in better shape than our last.”

 

* * *

After John bandaged the stitches he helped Sherlock upstairs, leaving behind their houseguests. “Can we trust them?” John asked quietly as he went to find Sherlock’s PJ’s.  
  
“Yes. They’re quite valuable as well. All are natives of the area and have various valuable skills. Aife and Keaghan’s family are farmers. We’ll need that skill because none of us have planted before. Though I did try my hand at cannabis once.”  
  
John snickered.  
  
“It was for science. Continuing with the group, Nick’s a soldier and we can always use more of those. They’re all useful aside from the child, she’s more of a hindrance.”  
  
“Sherlock, she can’t help it. Lily’s just a kid, a poor one at that. She just lost her mum.” John tossed Sherlock’s clothes at him. “Here, get changed.”  
  
“You keep taking out your anger at very random times.”  
  
“Sorry, I just keep remembering how you almost got yourself killed.”  
  
“Yes but I survived, didn’t I?”  
  
“You can’t just…you can’t keep doing that to me. I thought we came to an agreement before that you can’t run off on me.” John sat on the other side of the bed with his back to Sherlock.

“I apologise, John.” He said sincerely.  
  
John turned around in bed to face Sherlock, “You scared me. I was a sodding mess.”  
  
“I-I was-”  
  
“I know.” John sighed. “You were curious and you wanted a case but you should have told me. You didn’t need to run off like that, I would have come with you.”  
  
“I didn’t mean to cause you pain.” Sherlock bit his lip.  
  
“It’s fine. I’m going to go back down stairs and help everyone get sorted.” John pushed himself off the bed.  
  
“Are you, ah, coming back?” The consulting detective asked hesitantly.  
  
“Ah, yeah. But I’m still a bit mad at you.”

 

* * *

The lights in the kitchen and living room were still on, Sherlock would have been angry with that if he had been down stairs. But John wanted to get to know the group better, in the light. “We lost Lily’s mum, Aife’s and my uncle, Jeff, and Adam today. They had gone out to find food and some other supplies but by the time they came back they were met by the mob.” Keaghan took a seat at the kitchen table. Molly and Nick were playing with Lily in the living room.  
  
“That’s hard.”  
  
“It’s not like we haven’t lost everyone else.” Aife said coldly. She looked as if she had experienced a lot of loss.  
  
“It’s still tough, I’m sure.” John took a sip of tea. “We should set up somewhere for you all to sleep.”  
  
“I found an extra mattress in the attic today.” Josh said. “It’s not that bad up there, if someone wanted to sleep there they could. There’s also the sofa has and there’s a lilo up stairs there too.”  
  
“Where will Lily sleep?” Aife asked. The little girl still hadn’t made a sound since John came down to the kitchen.  
  
“In my room?” Molly poked her head around the corner. “She seems to like me enough. We could put the lilo in the room. It’s a kids room and all.”  
  
“She might have a rough night.”  
  
John figured Molly wanted some type of company. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days.  
  
“That’s fine.”  
  
“Aife, why don’t you take the sofa and I’ll take the floor tonight and Nick can have the mattress?”  
  
Aife nodded.  
  
“Good, that was easy.”  
  
“We won’t be in your way long.” Aife drummed her fingers on the table.  
  
“Where are you going?”  
  
“We just didn’t want to impose, we told Sherlock that. We wanted to make sure we got him back to you.”  
  
“You’ll stay until you have a solid plan.” John said. “Sherlock seems to…like you all so that should speak volumes about you so there shouldn’t be a problem with you staying here.”  
  
“Thank you.” Keaghan held his mug in his hands.  
  
“He talked about you, a lot.” Aife sniggered. “He wouldn’t shut up about how you would stitch him up and how you were probably very angry with him.”

John felt himself gaping, “Really?”  
  
“Yeah, always knew you two were together but he set me straight in saying that you hadn’t kissed until the other week and you believe that is when you’re relationship.”  
  
John shook his head with a laugh, “That doesn’t sound like Sherlock.”  
  
“He was a bit condescending about it.”

“Ok, that’s Sherlock.” John paused. “In the morning we should start on that fence, Greg. Also I want to work on the garden and I’d like to get Sherlock on the bees but I don’t want him on his feet just yet.”  
  
“Good thinking, John. It’s time we all get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” Greg declared.

 

* * *

John found Sherlock on his back in bed with his hands steepled under his chin.  
  
“Thinking?” John discarded of his trousers.  
  
Sherlock just hummed in response.  
  
“What of?” He picked up an old tee shirt for bed.  
  
“I’m concerned you’re not going to forgive me. You hold grudges when you feel wronged.”  
  
John crawled into bed with him, “Don’t be daft. I’m quite angry with you but I’m happy you’re ok. I’ll get over it.”  
  
Sherlock sighed as John curled close to him, “Would you like to know something?”  
  
“Always.”  
  
“Molly seems to be attracted to Keaghan. Nick is attracted to Aife but he has yet to tell her because he’s a bit nervous of what her older brother will say or do. Keaghan is protective even though Aife is quite independent.”  
  
“Trivial stuff for you.” John kissed him on the cheek.  
  
“I felt like sharing it.”  
  
John smiled.  
  
“Are we ever going to shag?” Sherlock questioned out of no where.  
  
“Ah, well, I guess?”  
  
“I was just curious because we haven’t.”  
  
“I want to wait until your cut is healed a bit more.”  
  
“Boring.”  
  
“Shut up, go to sleep.”


	11. Atoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fence building gets under way. After John takes a bath.

The next morning John woke up to Sherlock snogging him, “Mmm, morning.” John pulled back and yawned. “What’s that for?”  
  
“I thought it’d be a pleasant way to wake you. Greg had knocked on the door to tell you that Josh, Aife, Nick, and he are going to collect supplies from Aife’s family farm to start the fence you’ve been on about. He wanted to know if you would like to _tag along_ as they have room for one more. Keaghan said last night there’s a truck there so space wouldn’t be an issue for transport. You were, as they say, sleeping like the dead.”  
  
“Oh, well that was a rather pleasant way for you to wake me up for that.” John couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He thought it was funny that Sherlock seemed worried about John being angry with him. Which he was but he didn’t want to dwell on it too much. “I think we need to get rid of that turn of phrase because the dead aren’t sleeping much now, are they?” John stretched out. “What are you getting up to today?” He kissed Sherlock’s temple before getting out of the bed.  
  
“Bees.”  
  
“I don’t want you on your feet much. I’d rather you stay in bed, do some reading. There are plenty of books here.” He pointed to the built-in bookshelves of the room. Sherlock commented on how the previous occupants had a wide array of books but none of them had been read. Clearly faux-intellectual types.  
  
“I’ll be fine John.”  
  
“Who is the doctor in this room?” John raised an eyebrow questioningly while he dug around for some clean clothes. “I’m going to have Sally after you all day.”  
  
Sherlock made a noise in protest.  
  
“She’d probably tie you to the bed.”  
  
The detective snorted.  
  
“You know she would love to. She probably has her handcuffs on her.”  
  
“I nicked her’s and Greg’s pairs.”  
  
“Of course you did. Speaking of nicked, where are the cigarettes?”  
  
“I lost them yesterday.”  
  
“Seriously?”  
  
“I would never lie to you.”

John barked a laugh.  
  
“I’m being completely honest. Now go on and shower. Greg said you have an hour before they wanted to leave.”  
  
“Shame, thought about finally giving you that shag you asked me about last night.”  
  
Sherlock’s eyes widened, “Sod the fence.”  
  
John smirked, “I’ll be back later.”  
  
“I believe that was a tease. You’ll pay for it eventually.”  
  
John went to the bathroom.  
  
When he finished he went to leave the room with out a word, thinking Sherlock had fallen asleep again.  
  
“Be safe.” Sherlock mumbled.  
  
“I will.”

* * *

John joined the group that was going to be heading to Aife’s family farm in the kitchen to talk about the trip. Josh and Molly had spent the previous day measuring and figuring out what they needed so they were all set to go.  
  
Aife was a firecracker, smart as a whip, and her wit was sharp. John could understand why Sherlock didn’t hate her as most people he came by. She filled everyone in on the farm. It was a half an hour drive from the house. There they could find a saw, a nail gun, plenty of nails, wood, and some other things that Aife believed could be helpful.  
  
The first thing they had come across on the land was a house burnt to ashes, mostly. There was a bit of the structure left. Aife explained on the drive that Keaghan and she had set it on fire because it was over run with zombies. She said she was sure the land was safe now though. She mentioned, almost nonchalantly, that her parents had died defending the farm. John couldn’t help but frown but she put on as if she was completely unaffected.  
  
On a quick turn around the land they only discovered four zombies and each were dealt with. They retrieved the truck Keaghan had mentioned and pulled it up to the barn where they collected what they came for. John was happy that Aife and Nick were more talkative than his mates. It’s not that he didn’t talk to the others but it was hard for some reason. Maybe it was because they had spent so much time together, alone, in the quiet dark. Maybe they talked about everything they felt comfortable enough to talk about and there was nothing left to say.  
  
Nick talked to John about Iraq and how he had trouble readjusting. It wasn’t two weeks that he was home from his deployment that the first attack happened. Nick was visiting Keaghan when the mob had moved on to the farm. They had been best mates back in school but had drifted apart until circumstances had forced them back together. The group had been holed up in a flat in Rye where they had met Lily’s mum, Susan, and her brothers Jeff and Adam. Life wasn’t too bad in Rye until they ran out of food. Susan should have never left Lily but she was getting depressed from being inside and needed some air. Now Lily was alone and Nick wasn’t sure what to do with her. He didn’t want to be a parent because there was enough to worry about. Aife and Keaghan felt the same.  
  
“Aife’s a nice girl.” John said quietly, remembering what Sherlock had said. Aife was currently in the barn while John and Nick were taking a quick break.  
  
Nick laughed, “Ah, Sherlock told you? He deduced that yesterday. Thankfully it was just to me because I don’t think Keaghan would be happy with me and I’m not sure how Aife feels.”  
  
“Yeah, he does that. She seems to like you though.”  
  
“I don’t think I can risk my friendship with Keaghan.”  
  
John nodded and took a drink of water. Not even noon and his shoulder was bothering him, “You should ask Sherlock about what they both think.”  
  
“That’s cheating isn’t, it?”  
  
“Is that what a normal person thinks? I’ve been around him for too many months.”  
  
Nick grinned before going back to work.

* * *

When they returned to the house Sherlock was sitting on the front porch with Lily. Both of them were sitting in their own chairs, reading their own books. John was taken back by the image because Sherlock and children didn’t go together in his head. “What are you doing?”  
  
“I assumed it would be ok if I left the bedroom to read on the porch. The child was also reading, more like looking at the pictures, and Molly wanted to shower so she left her with me. Which is ridiculous because I can’t go after her if she ran away.” Sherlock gestured to his leg.  
  
“Lily’s not one to leave the group.” Aife ruffled Lily’s hair.  
  
Lily just smiled.  
  
“You encountered…three zombies?”  
  
“Four.” John corrected him.  
  
“Damn.”  
  
“Sad you missed out on the action?”  
  
“Yes but you threatened to have Sally tie me down to the bed if I was up and about so I thought staying back was for the best.”  
  
He looked at what Sherlock was reading, “Agatha Christie.”  
  
Sherlock pouted, “It’s very predictable but nothing looked interesting.”  
  
“We’re going to get started on the fence.” He brushed his fingers against the base of his neck.  
  
“I’ll just sit here and watch since you won’t let me on my feet.” Sherlock grumbled then turned his focus to the book.  
  
“How are you Lily?” John smiled down at the little girl. She just looked at him sheepishly then went back to her book. “Right then.”  
  
John’s shoulder was bothering him too much to keep up with everyone on the fence so he went to the back to see how the garden was going. Keaghan had weeded the whole thing while Sally and Josh were sorting through the shed. Molly was cleaning the attic. John felt like he was getting underfoot everywhere so he went to find Sherlock who was now in the house. Sherlock was sprawled across the couch while Lily sat on the floor with a colouring book. “I think she likes you.”  
  
“She doesn’t talk, it’s fine.”  
  
“It’s not good that she doesn’t.”  
  
“I’m going to assume it has something to do with the trauma she has faced.”  
  
John rubbed his hands over his face. The poor child lost her family and was facing the living dead every day.  
  
He shook his head as if to shake out the feelings and sat down at Sherlock’s feet, “Can I check your stitches?”  
  
“Your shoulder is still bothering you and you feel like you’re not being useful.”  
  
John pushed up Sherlock’s trouser leg with a curt nod. _No bother in lying about it_.  
  
“Why don’t you have a soak?”  
  
“Later.” John peeled off the bandages and inspected the wound in silence. “Doesn’t look like it’s infected. I want to keep it that way.”  
  
“Yes, doctor.”

* * *

John found himself in the bathtub after dinner, practically forced in by Sherlock. John joked that it was just a ploy to get him naked and Sherlock didn’t answer him. He sank up to his chin in the hot, steaming water. His shoulder had downgraded from a sharp pain to a dull throb, which was even disappearing. John sank all way under and that was the moment Sherlock decided to talk.  
  
“I couldn’t hear you.” He said when he reemerged, gasping for air.  
  
“You like them.” Sherlock sat by John’s head on the title floor, back to him.  
  
“Hmm? Oh, our new group members? Yeah, I like them. I tried to get Nick to tell Aife he’s interested. Sounds like you already did that in your own way.”  
  
“I made a deduction.”  
  
“Did you make one about Keaghan, would he be upset?”  
  
“Why are you meddling in the lives of these people? They’re strangers.”  
  
“I know but people should have some happiness now, right? End of the world and all.”  
  
John knew the man was rolling his eyes.  
  
“Lily really does like you.” She had followed Sherlock from the couch to the kitchen when they had dinner, sitting next to him without a word. When he had made his way upstairs she got up to follow but Molly intercepted her to put her down for bed.  
  
“Please.”  
  
John grinned, “Never thought you’d do well with kids.”  
  
“I wasn’t doing a thing.”  
  
John waited a beat, “Molly seems to be doing a bit better.” She was a bit more talkative and lively.  
  
“Yes, her spirits have lifted considerably since yesterday. But Greg meanwhile has been a bit down.”  
  
“You think?” Greg had been quiet for a good part of the day.  
  
“Yes, Molly’s attraction to Keaghan is apparent to everyone it seems. Greg is now the only person alone.”  
  
“That’s stupid.”  
  
“I completely agree.”  
  
“Probably for different reasons.” John laughed.  
  
They sat in a comfortable silence for some time until John decided he wanted to talk again. “Can we talk about something? Something I want to talk about?”  
  
The detective grunted.  
  
“You ran off on me. Think of it as some type of atonement.” John skimmed both of his hands on the surface.  
  
“Fine, go on but you understand how I feel about taking.”  
  
“You love talking, it’s the topics.”  
  
“Correct. Go on.”  
  
John had made a list of things he and Sherlock hadn’t talked about and probably never will. One of which was, “Why did we leave London when we did?”  
  
“After careful consideration I believed it was the right time. I’ve told you this. I really have no other reasoning.”  
  
“You didn’t give up hope?”  
  
“Ridiculous, John.”  
  
“Will we ever go back?” He asked softly, barely above a whisper.  
  
“I didn’t realise you missed London so much.”  
  
“Of course I miss it. I know I enjoy this zombie apocalypse, you don’t have to tell me I do, but I miss our old life.”  
  
“Situation, we’re still living the same life.” Sherlock corrected him.  
  
John sighed, “I guess our situation here isn’t all that bad.”  
  
“You think it’s bad? I knew you missed London but you didn’t seem to hate things terribly. Is it because your shoulder has bothered you recently.”  
  
“I thought I lost you and the only place I wanted to be was with you.”  
  
“I came back. You thought about killing yourself?” Sherlock turned to face him. John had never seen him so worried.  
  
“My heart broke yesterday. I was…shattered.” He took a deep breath. “I was so worried about you even before you took off yesterday. Your curiosity is going to be your undoing. You can’t do that to me again, Sherlock.”  
  
Sherlock frowned, “I…I don’t know what to say.”  
  
“Swear to whatever, you won’t go running after a pack of zombies. At least not without taking me with you.”  
  
“I can’t make promises, John, you understand that but I am willing to try my best.” Sherlock gripped the side of the tub.  
  
“I just can’t take it if you’re not here.”  
  
The detective rested his forehead on the tub, “I’m sorry. I feel the same way.”  
  
John leaned over and kissed the top of Sherlock’s head, burying his face in the man’s mass of curls.  
  
“I never want to hurt you.”  
  
“I know.” John sunk back under the water.  
  
When he came back up Sherlock was looking at him quizzically.  
  
“Out with it.”  
  
“Do you not feel like you’re drowning when you do that? Don’t you think of Moriarty?”  
  
John was a little shocked because Sherlock hadn’t mentioned the name for months. Not since the few days following swimming pool incident where everything exploded. Moriarty got away, somehow, and John had nearly drowned in the pool. That’s what he had been told at least because he couldn't remember a thing. All he could remember, after Sherlock pulling the trigger that is, was waking up in a hospital bed with Sherlock holding his hand tight. Sherlock himself should have been resting in his own bed because he had a concussion as well some broken ribs and a fractured wrist.  
  
 _“Are you ok?” John asked once he wasn’t seeing double. Sherlock’s face was littered with scrapes and bruises.  
  
“Fine, fine. You…you almost drowned. I-”  
  
“I’m ok. Feel like I was run over by a large automobile but I’m alive. You should lie down though.”  
  
And that’s just what Sherlock did, curling up next to John, “He got away.”  
  
John closed his eyes and rested his head on Sherlock’s arm. “Of course he did. We’ll get him. I’ll kill him.”  
  
“Not if I find him first.”  
  
“Go to sleep Sherlock.” John whispered.  
  
_ John never had nightmares of drowning, surprisingly. He dreamt of running and running after Sherlock but never being able to catch up. He had nightmares of Sherlock dying in his arms, blood pooled around him, and the crystal blue-green eyes empty because Moriarty had killed him. “It’s really a pity the zombies will have a better chance at him than we did.”  
  
“I think he was close to coming back.”  
  
“Mycroft said that we had some new neighbours last time he kidnapped me. That was the day before the reports started coming in.”  
  
“The assassins, yes. That was a sign.”  
  
“Then the world went to shite. Honestly I’d rather be dealing with zombies than Moriarty.” It was easy enough to kill an RLF. They were everywhere. John liked knowing what his threat was and where it was coming from. On cases he knew what to look for. In war, it was the blokes shooting at you. With Moriarty he felt like he had no control. He wasn’t even sure that Sherlock knew what that madman was getting up to.  
  
Sherlock shrugged like he wasn’t sure what he’d rather, “Must we continue talking about this?”  
  
“No, we can change subjects.” Moriarty always got Sherlock worked up.  
  
“Fabulous.”  
  
Silence settled into the bathroom once more. John closed his eyes and tried not to think about zombies, Moriarty, his shoulder, or London.  
  
When he was thoroughly relaxed, almost to the point of falling asleep, he felt Sherlock’s hand on his chest, slowly drifting down towards his abdomen. He cracked an eye open, “What are you doing?”  
  
Sherlock just smiled like the cat that ate the canary and ghosted his fingers over John before taking him in his hand.  
  
“Bloody hell.” He rolled his head back as the other man slowly moved his hand.  
  
When John was fully erect Sherlock pulled away.  
  
“No, that’s mean, that’s not a tease.” John grabbed his wrist and spoke in his most assertive voice.  
  
The detective pressed his lips to John’s shoulder then returned his hand.


	12. Bored! Bored! Bored!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is bored and John attempts to fix his mood.

The weeks pass quickly and quietly. John’s shoulder had stopped giving him too much bother so he helped Nick, Aife, and Greg with the fence and fixing some minor things on the property. The fence looked good, it seemed strong enough and it was tall enough to keep out the stray RLF. They were all happy they could enjoy their yard without worrying about being attacked. If they all had to be stuck together under one roof without being able to venture outside then someone would probably get shot for being a prat (Sherlock).  
  
In the back of the house Keaghan had planted the garden. Aife had also made a coop for some chickens they had found at a neighbouring farm. Josh, Molly, and Sally did some rearranging of the house. They made the attic more comfortable for living and the sitting room a bit more open for them all.  
  
Sherlock busied himself with bees while the rest of them had been working, specifically coming up with ways to use the honey. He spent most of time sitting in front of the hives. He told John that he was thinking. Sherlock also did some experiments that reminded John of London because he caused a mess. It made him miss Mrs. Hudson because he wanted her to tut about the kitchen and tell Sherlock not to blow things up.  
  
Lily spent a lot of time watching Sherlock while colouring and reading.  
  
Aife, Keaghan, Nick, and Lily fit perfectly into the group. Aife and Keaghan were good with land. There were plans on farming that Aife wanted to start. Keaghan wanted to do some hunting. Nick was extremely helpful. They were all kind. Aife was hilarious. Keaghan was soft spoken, almost in the shadow of his younger sister but very protective of her as she was the only family he had left. Nick was smart and skilled. Lily, she didn’t do much but follow Sherlock about. John thought it was cute but he was concerned at her lack of speaking. He wasn’t sure what to do about it and voiced his concern to Molly one night who told him that she’d try to work on it and not to worry because the tike had gone through some terrible trauma. But that just made John worry more.  
  
As for John’s mate’s, they were getting on all right. Molly was a bit brighter, not as optimistic as she had been before it all happened but she doing ok. She was so obviously interested in Keaghan that John had to force himself not to tell her to get up the nerve and tell him. Greg was withdrawn, which worried John. The doctor had tried to talk to Greg about his girls but the DI had shrugged him off, saying he was sure they were safe. He mentioned Mycroft but was shot down immediately. It was a bit distressing. Sally and Anderson had been keeping their distance from Sherlock. They both kept to themselves and spent a good deal of time in their room.  
  
John and Sherlock were fairly happy. Unlike the rest of the group they weren’t missing something terribly. Outside of losing Mrs. Hudson, which was tragic and still hurt, they were doing fine in the new world. Their physical relationship hadn’t progressed much. There were a few sweaty, fumbling exchanges with their hand and mouths in the middle of the night when the rest of the house was asleep. There were cuddles and kisses before sleeping or in the morning. There was more touching than there had been before. It was nice. John just didn’t feel comfortable enough to get lost in Sherlock with a house full of people. The other man seemed content to do whatever John wanted. John was fine to let it stay as it was, giving their evolution a break. They were happy together.  
  
The group was holding it together all right. No one had had a mental break down, at least not in front of John or Sherlock.  
  
But then something snapped. Well Sherlock snapped.  
  
John was stretched out across his bed, trying to find a way to be comfortable. It was hot and humid. Sherlock had informed him that it was now mid-July the other day. John hated England in the summer because of the humidity. It was heavy and everything felt like it was sticking to you. They were still conserving power (it hadn't been used in so long he wasn't sure that it was even still working) so there was no relief outside of a jump in the ocean or a cold shower. John just wanted an ice cold drink and a fan to sit in front of.  
  
Sherlock was still MIA when John woke up. He had left the bedroom around midnight because he wanted to think. John let him go without a word because he knew when Sherlock was in one of his moods. The detective was probably pacing in front of the hives. It had become his favourite spot in the house and no one bothered him when he was near his bees.  
  
About half an hour after John woke up he heard loud crashing coming from downstairs. He scrambled out of the bed, grabbed his shorts, and then spirited downstairs once he was decent. “BORED! BORED! BORED!” He heard Sherlock bellow when he reached the bottom of the stairs.  
  
Everyone was crowded around the doorway of the kitchen. “Bloody hell Sherlock, you can’t-”  
  
“Oh do shut up, Lestrade and continue to pine silently for my brother.” Sherlock spewed. “Much like Nick-”  
  
“Oi! Sherlock, what’s the problem?” John pushed his way through his friends. He needed to put a stop to the tirade before someone else had their metaphorical heart torn out.  
  
“Stop, you’ll cut your feet on glass.” Molly informed him, she was holding Lily on her hip.  
  
He looked to the ground to see shards of glass across the floor. “What happened?” John tried to ignore the fact that eight people were standing behind him.  
  
“Nothing! Nothing is happening. Nothing!” Sherlock threw his hands in the air. “I have to sit here and listen to you all carry on. Your little brains talking about little things! Your bloody gardens and chickens and who should teach the child and how you’d just like a proper cup of tea. There are more important things to think about! Your gossiping and flirting should have ceased with the rest of civilisation but yet I must suffer through it every day! I should have left you all behind!” A plate crashed against the floor and Lily began to cry.  
  
“Will you make her stop?” He snapped.  
  
“Ok.” John said calmly. He was surprised that Sherlock hadn’t had an outburst like this yet. He knew it was probably best to get everyone out of the house. “You’re going to take a beat and get yourself together.” He turned to the group. “Why don’t we go down to the water?” By we he meant them.  
  
Lily sniffled and buried her face into Molly’s shoulder.  
  
“That…sounds like a brilliant idea.” Aife nodded. She seemed to understand Sherlock. He seemed to like her as well, in his own way. “Let’s get ourselves together.”  
  
Everyone eventually dispersed to their rooms, leaving John standing alone at the edge of the kitchen. Sherlock was now sitting on the ground against the stove with his fingers knotted in his hair.  
  
John left him there and went to retrieve his shoes as well as a broom and dust pan to clean up the glass.

 

* * *

By the time the kitchen floor was glass free everyone was out of the house. Sherlock was still on the floor but his hands were no longer in his hair. He was staring up at the ceiling. “I’d rather die than live here any longer.”  
  
John’s heart clenched, “Don’t say that.”  
  
“What am I supposed to do, John? I’ve studied honey and bees enough. I need something new. I need a puzzle, something interesting.”  
  
John took a seat next to him on the floor, “I know but…don’t say that you’d rather die.”

“I may as well be dead, I’m not using my brain. I can feel it rotting. The process is accelerated because I have to listen to these little meaningless conversations everyday.”  
  
He decided it would be best not to ask Sherlock what had set him off because John knew that he’d get absolutely nowhere. “What do you want to do?” John tentatively put his hand on the other man’s knee. Sherlock was funny about touching when he was in a strop.  
  
“I want to solve a case but there are none to be solved.” He huffed. “I want to leave here, move on.”  
  
John nodded, “Ok.”  
  
“What?” Sherlock furrowed his brow in confusion.  
  
“I said ok.”  
  
“I know what you said but you voice sounded as if you were agreeing to it. I didn’t ask you.”  
  
“You do want me to come with, right?”  
  
“Of course, don’t be daft.” He paused. “But you’re comfortable here.”  
  
“It’s safe here. I’m happy here. For now at least but if you’re going to take off some where, I’ll follow.”  
  
“Please don’t become sappy and romantic, it doesn’t suit us.”  
  
“I mean it as your friend, colleague, former flat mate, and current…whatever. I’m not being romantic. I’m being honest. I couldn’t stay here while you went off on your own. I wouldn’t want to here alone.” John shrugged. “You’re where all the danger is after all.”  
  
Sherlock snorted, “I’m unsure of if I can provide you with that anymore.”  
  
“Let’s see…every time we venture out of the fence you wander off towards a RLF. This morning I woke up to glass being shattered.”  
  
“You hadn’t just awoke. You were up for nearly an hour before.”  
  
John rolled his eyes, “Well you still made my heart race. Not to mention you get me off every so often so there’s that too.”  
  
“I’m surprised you’re ok with out current physical relationship.”  
  
“I’m not a sex fiend. I’d rather not have everyone hear our first time.”  
  
“First time meaning penetration because we’ve had a few variations of sex.  
  
“You know what I mean.”  
  
“Penetration is more meaningful.”  
  
“Yeah…ah…I’m not saying it out loud because it’s sentimental and you’ll scoff at me.”  
  
“Fair enough, I’d rather not hear it.” They sat next to each other not saying a thing for a while. “I imagined retiring in Sussex if I wasn’t killed before I became too old to run about London. I never realised how positively bored I would be.”  
  
“Maybe you need to start concentrating on something you always wanted to do.” John shrugged.  
  
“I don’t have enough equipment for most things.” Sherlock looked thoughtfully for a moment, “Though I could study a RLF.”  
  
“What do you mean study?”  
  
“Keep one…maybe in the shed. I could come up with a way to make it safe.”  
  
“I’m not sure.” John didn’t like the idea of having one of these mindless killers on his property.  
  
“If I come up with a way to make it safe?”  
  
“I want a solid plan then I’ll think about it.”  
  
“Of course.” Sherlock nodded. “Let’s go upstairs.”  
  
John was confused.  
  
“No one is here and they will not be here for another forty-five minutes, at least.”  
  
“We don’t have-”  
  
“Lubricant? I found some in the last house we plundered.” Sherlock stood up from the floor. “Come on, John. I’d very much like to fuck you. It may be enough to dissolve my boredom.”  
  
John followed after Sherlock to their room without another word.

 

* * *

John was sure that they were both on the brink of severe dehydration with the amount of sweat that was on their sheets. He was on his back next to Sherlock, breathing hard and covered in sweat and come. It was sticky and uncomfortable but John was satisfied.  
  
Sherlock was quiet. He seemed far more content than he was earlier.  
  
“Better now?” John mustered up the strength to run his hand up the other man’s arm.  
  
Sherlock just hummed.  
  
He smiled smugly to himself. The doctor enjoyed having some type of power over Sherlock. “Let’s take a cold shower and get something to eat.”  
  
“Mmm, in a moment.”  
  
John pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s shoulder, “I need one now. I don’t want to fall asleep like this.”  
  
“I quite like that there are still traces of myself in you.” He sounded almost shy about it.  
  
“I know but-”  
  
“Yes, yes, I know. Go clean up.” Sherlock flicked his wrist.  
  
“Hey, don’t get stroppy.” He sat up and felt a slight twinge. “Come join me.”  
  
“In the shower? Did we not just have sex?” He raised an eyebrow. “Surprised you’re ready to go again.”  
  
“I’m not talking about sex.” John snickered.  
  
“Boring, I’m going to have a kip.”

 

* * *

The rest of the group had returned at some point when John was in the shower. He washed the sheets by hand, leaving Sherlock napping on the floor, and hung them in the back to dry. Sally made a smart comment about it.  
  
He was sitting in the shade on the porch with Aife, Nick, Greg, and Lily when Sherlock finally made an appearance some hours later. Even though it had been weeks John was still surprised to see Sherlock in shorts, a thin tee shirt, and bare feet. He missed the other man’s suits.  “Oh, look here. Done being a prat?” Greg looked to Sherlock.  
  
John groaned, “Please don’t start.”  
  
Sherlock perched himself on the arm of John’s chair. Lily got up from where she was sitting next to Nick and tugged at Sherlock’s trouser leg. The man reached down and scooped her up. Lily settled on to his lap after giving him a hug. John thought he was hallucinating but didn’t say a word.  
  
“Let’s have a shootout, Sherlock.” Aife suggested. “See who the better archer is. John mentioned you lugged a crossbow around but you didn’t touch it once.”  
  
“Hmm, tempting. John, will you join?”  
  
“I’m not wasting bullets on some fun.”  
  
Sherlock pouted at him, “I thought you wanted to know who has the better shot.”  
  
“Maybe some other day. I’m sure you know who’s the better shot is any way.” John smiled up at him.

 “Yes, I’m sure you’re superior in the area. With the gun at least, your skills are unmatched. Shooting through two windows with myself in your line of fire and landing a fatal shot is very impressive.”  
  
Greg looked between the men, curiously.  
  
“Like you had no idea John had been the one to shoot the cabbie. I gave a pretty good description of him-”  
  
“You what?”  
  
“I stopped myself and back tracked when I realised what I was saying.” Sherlock defended himself. “It’s not as if he would have arrested you, John.”  
  
“I didn’t-”  
  
“Idiot.”  
  
“Sherlock-”  
  
“He’s still not going to arrest you.”  
  
“That’s not the point!” John raised his voice.  
  
Sherlock just rolled his eyes.  
  
“Come on, Sherlock, let’s have a bit of fun.” Aife stood up, changing the conversation once more. “I’d like to kick your arse.”  
  
“I highly doubt you will.” Sherlock stood up, taking Lily with him. “I’ll go find my bow and we’ll meet in the back.”

“Good deal.”  
  
John sat amazed at Aife to get Sherlock to change his attention to something else.  
  
“I knew you did it, took you both long enough to say something.” Greg chuckled. “He’s right, you have one hell of a shot.”  
  
The army doctor felt a smile creep across his lips, “Let’s go see Aife kick his arse.”

 

* * *

Aife won the competition by a hair. Sherlock demanded another challenge but it was time for dinner then soon enough it was going to be dark. Aife promised another time and Sherlock agreed.  
  
That night following dinner John and Sherlock were reading in bed by candle light when there was a soft tap on the door. They both looked at each other questioningly, “What is it?” Sherlock snapped.  
  
The door was pushed open slowly and Lily was there holding a book. “What’s wrong Lily?” John asked, even though he knew there wouldn’t be an answer.  
  
She scurried over to the bed and tried to crawl up but failed until Sherlock pulled her up. Lily sat in between them before she handed Sherlock the book “The Brothers Grimm.” Sherlock inspected the book.  
  
“Do you want Sherlock to read to you?” John asked and she nodded. “Which story, love?”  
  
She pushed the book open and pointed to a random title and Sherlock turned to the appropriate page and began, “Once upon a time, there was a poor, pious little girl that lived all alone with her mother. When they had nothing left to eat, the child went out into the wood where she met an old woman.” Sherlock stopped, “No wonder why there are so many child abductions.”  
  
“Did you never read fairytales as a child?” John put his book the nightstand before lying down on his stomach.  
  
“Why would I?”  
  
“That’s what kids do. Go on, she’s waiting.” He gestured to the little girl.  
  
He wrinkled his nose but continued to read. When he finished he closed the book but Lily opened it to the index and pointed to another story.  
  
John fell asleep to Sherlock reading Lily fairytales.


	13. Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily gets sick and Sherlock spills a couple of secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a couple weeks to get through this chapter and I'm really not into it. I know what I want to do the next few chapters but I needed to get this one out of the way first. Sorry if it's too much filler. I may rewrite it in the future, I'm not sure.

Sherlock stood in front of the shed, looking like a mad man. He was wearing the largest genuine smile John had seen on him for months…possibly ever. He had finally secured a RLF they had found wandering on the hill for his experiments.  
  
Before that Sherlock had come up with a plan, one John and the rest of the group could approve of. It took about three group meetings and four weeks before they settled on something they each agreed on. John was the hardest to convince. They cut off the zombie’s arms and broke its jaw, taking away the two things that would hurt them. They decided to clear out the shed and put everything from there in the basement of the house. The basement was a bit cramped so it took some time to rearrange things, setting them back another week another week. They also set up restraints in the shed just to make themselves feel a bit safer.  
  
Sherlock was getting antsy but John tried to occupy his time with coming up with different puzzles. He came up with a game about different murder scenarios and even got Sally, Anderson, and Greg involved. Everyone was happy to keep Sherlock occupied it seemed because it meant less lashing out. Sherlock also spent more time with Lily, teaching her the things three year olds should be learning and probably somethings three year olds shouldn't be learning.  
  
The RLF project was good for everyone though because John could tell the heat and being in close proximity to people constantly was getting to everyone. There were small rows here and there within the group but nothing had got out of control. The prospect of Sherlock discovering something new about the RLFs seemed to give everyone a little hope.  
  
“Oh, this is brilliant, John!” Sherlock peered into the window.  
  
“I’m glad you’re happy.” He sighed, sitting on the ground.  
  
Capturing the RLF was a bit difficult and removing the arms and jaw was pretty gruesome. He was sure he was going to have nightmares about it. John could still smell the rotting flesh on him. Of course John was the one who helped Sherlock do the amputations while Greg, Nick, Keaghan, and Sally held the zombie down with ropes and tape.  
  
“This is exactly what I needed.” Sherlock rubbed his hands together.  
  
John chuckled, “I want to ask what you’re doing with it but I won’t. I’ll let you play mad scientist. As long as you’re not going to hurt yourself or anyone else it’s all fine.”

“I’d like to start now but it’s getting dark, I’d rather not use up electricity or burn too many candles.” Sherlock ignored John.  
  
The doctor was used to it so he just continued on, “What are you going to do the rest of the night then?”  
  
“Dinner then reading to Lillian I assume before going to sleep.” Sherlock slowly walked from the window on the side of the shed to the door in the front while speaking.  
  
“You’re actually going to sleep? Sure you’re going to be able to contain your excitement until morning.”  
  
“I do have self control, John.”  
  
John barked a laugh, “You do?”  
  
“Yes, I do.”  
  
He raised an eyebrow. The drugs. The obsessive crime solving.  
  
“I did the drugs to control my boredom.”  
  
John shook his head, “Right. Well this is your biggest puzzle yet.”  
  
“Definitely off the scale.” Sherlock nodded with a slight smile.  
  
“It’s going to be quite funny when you solve this mess and save the human race.”

“I should just let it be.”  
  
“Bollocks, you like humanity. You just like it for all the reasons most people hate it.”  
  
“Hmm, possibly.”  
  
“’Lock?” A little voice said behind John.  
  
Sherlock was looking behind John with a confused expression on his face.  
  
John turned to see Lily holding her stomach and pouting. “Did she just-did you just talk, love?” In the few months since she came to the house she was stone silent. There were smiles here and there and faces that showed her emotions but she didn’t speak a word. She did cry once.  
  
“My ‘tomah hewrts.” Her frown deepened, she was looking at Sherlock.  
  
“She’s clearly in pain if she’s speaking. You’re the doctor.”  
  
“Could you deduce what’s wrong with her? Save some time.” John sprang up from the ground and walked over to the little girl. She looked at him with her big green eyes, waiting from him to do something.

“Is it just your tummy?” He pressed his hand to it as she nodded. She felt a little warm so he put his hand to her forehand to confirm that she had a fever. “I think it’s just a stomach bug.” John stood up and Sherlock was at his elbow.  
  
“Well she needs to be put down then.”  
  
John gaped. He couldn’t believe Sherlock would suggest-  
  
“Have a lie down.” Sherlock looked at him funny. “My god, John. I wasn’t suggesting killing her.”  
  
“Good.” John spoke as Lily vomited on Sherlock’s shoes.  
  
Her bottom lip began to quiver.  
  
“It’s ok.” John picked her up. “Come on. We’ll get you changed and tucked into bed. Then I’ll give you a quick check up.”  
  
She nodded again.  
  
John ignored the muttering Sherlock and carried Lily inside. “’Lock? Coming wiff us?” He glanced at Sherlock he was kicking off his trainers.  
  
“Why would I-”  
  
“Sherlock, come upstairs with me and help me make sure it’s just a virus.”  
  
The detective stuck his bottom lip out and rolled his eyes but eventually followed after Dr. Watson.

 

* * *

When John ruled out anything serious he and Sherlock left Lily in her room to rest. After she begged Sherlock to read to her, that is.   
  
They both went back downstairs, “She’s calling you ‘Lock. She came looking for you because she didn’t feel well. That really says a lot.”  
  
Sherlock wrinkled his nose as John reached the last step.  
  
“Maybe you look like her dad or some relative. She’s always been quite taken with you. Black, curly hair.”  
  
“That’s it. Her face is round and her eyes are-”  
  
“I know, I’m joking.” He laughed as the turned the corner. “She really likes you though.”

“I don’t understand why.”  
  
John shrugged, “Sometimes kids are just taken with certain people and you were good to her from the start even if you didn’t mean to be.”  
  
“I was doing it to appease you.” Sherlock huffed as they reached the kitchen where the rest of the group of gather. They normally ate out in the yard because there was more room but it was starting to rain.  
  
“Is Lily ok?” Nick asked while dicing up a potato at the counter.  
  
“Fine, she just has some stomach virus, I think.” John informed him. “Hopefully the rest of us don’t come down with it.”

Sherlock made a ‘hmming’ noise from the wall where he was standing.

“What?” Greg looked around the room, trying to see what Sherlock had observed.  
  
“Good to see you and Aife have finally shagged, Nick.”  
  
‘Oi, mate’, ‘bloody hell’, ‘Sherlock’, and ‘oh god’ were all said at once.  
  
“That’s my sister!” Keaghan snapped, “What are you on about?”  
  
“Sherlock.” John warned again.  
  
“I can’t live like this anymore. I’m unsure of why the four of them are hiding their sexual relationships. This is completely ridiculous.” Sherlock gestured to Nick, Aife, Keaghan, and Molly who were all standing near one another. “I know why Nick and Aife choose to keep their attraction to each other a secret and why their little tryst today was hidden. I don’t understand why you both are hiding yours.” His eyes flitted over Molly then Keaghan. Then they landed on Greg who was on the other side of the room. “Oh.”  
  
“Sherlock you can’t just-”  
  
“Molly didn’t want Greg to feel alone. Why?”  
  
John tried to talk but nothing came out.  
  
“Sure it’s stupid and dull.” Sherlock snickered. “Is dinner about ready? I’m positively famished.”  
  
Everyone just looked around at one another.  
  
“This is awkward.” Sally said from the kitchen table, next to Greg. The DI was sitting there, looking completely unaffected. John was sure that he was hurt deep down.  
  
“Always stating the obvious.” Sherlock mumbled.  
  
“You, ah, you’re-you and Aife?” Keaghan’s brow was knotted in though.  
  
“My god!” Sherlock bellowed. “Your tiny brains!”  
  
John felt his blood pressure rising, “Sherlock Holmes. Living room. Right bloody now.” The lightning lit up the candle lit room as John marched out. He heard Josh laugh at the command while Nick was attempting to explain himself to his best mate.  
  
Sherlock waltzed into the living room, gliding over to the window to observe the storm. “Go on then.” He said in a completely bored tone. “Lecture me.”  
  
“You seem to know what you did wrong-but bloody hell, Sherlock. You can’t do that to these people. They’re all we have.”  
  
“I liked it better when we were all we had.” Sherlock kept his gaze out the window as John moved closer to him.  
  
“Then let’s go. Let’s leave.”  
  
“They should leave. I have my bees and the RLF to observe. I also led us here. They can leave.” He crossed his arms.  
  
John just shook his head, “Stop being a drama queen. Go apologise to everyone.”  
  
“Why? It sounds like things are going just fine in there.” Sherlock pointed to the kitchen as a few laughs resonated from the room.  
  
“Prat.” He said and couldn’t help that it came out affectionately. “You still should apologise to Greg, that comment was unnecessary.”  
  
Sherlock looked annoyed but nodded anyway.  
  
They rejoined the group in the kitchen and Keaghan had Nick in a joking headlock. “Bastard, you should have told me sooner. I wouldn’t want Aife with anyone else!”  
  
“Oi, you don’t get to approve of who I date! I know it seems like we’ve gone back in time but I didn’t lose any rights as a woman! If anything we’re on more equal footing now.” Aife playfully punched her brother in the arm.  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Keaghan let go of Nick.  
  
“Honestly Molls, not sure what you see in the bastard.” Nick elbowed his best mate. Molly blushed and grinned. “Thanks Sherlock, should have done that earlier.”  
  
“No, no, do not encourage him.”  
  
“Oh please, John. You told me few days ago I should just say something.”  
  
“I was being sarcastic.” John sighed loudly. “I’m glad no one is throwing any punches.”  
  
“I deduced the situation and figured that wouldn’t happen.”  
  
John doubted that greatly.

 

* * *

After dinner it was John and Greg’s turn to do the washing up. Sherlock never apologised so John took it upon himself to do so. He’d been apologizing for Sherlock since he met him, “I’m sorry about him being a complete arse earlier.”  
  
Greg just shrugged.  
  
“Sherlock didn’t need to-”  
  
“John, I’ve known him longer than you. I get it. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“You don’t-”  
  
“No, I don’t want to talk about it. Ok? You need to drop it.” He was clutching the edge of the sink so tight his knuckles were white.  
  
John just nodded. He didn’t know what else to say or to do so he dropped it.

 

* * *

Once he checked in on Lily to make sure she was doing all right John proceeded with his usual nightly routine before heading to bed.  
  
”Is Greg ok?” John settled into bed next to Sherlock who was reading through a book of Poe’s short stories and poems by candlelight.  
  
The consulting detective just huffed.  
  
“Sherlock.”  
  
“He’s grieving. It’s taking him some time but he’ll get over it.”  
  
“You didn’t have to say that earlier.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“You’ll tell me if he needs any help.”  
  
“Mmm, looking for someone to cure. Getting bored, are we Doctor Watson?”  
  
“Yes spectacularly.” John admitted.  
  
“We’ll go hunting tomorrow. I’ll teach you have to shoot the crossbow. I’m sure you’ll learn quickly.”  
  
“Sounds like a date.” He teased.  
  
“Your shoulder hasn’t been bothering you but I noticed you limping a bit the last few days.”  
  
John shimmed down into bed.  
  
“That’s how I knew you were terribly bored. We’ll have to fix it.”  
  
He smiled before kissing Sherlock’s shoulder. “I’m going to sleep seeing we have a big day ahead of us. Don’t forget to-”  
  
“Extinguish the candle. Yes, of course.”  
  
John pulled the light lien sheet over him.

 

* * *

John wasn’t sure how long had passed before he woke up to another thunderstorm. Sherlock was attached him like some sort of lanky starfish. The thunder was quite loud and the lightning was fairly bright, there was no falling back to sleep right away.  
  
He settled on thinking about Greg. They had become decent mates before the apocalypse. They would grab a pint every so often and watch a match. They’d chat about stupid things and sometimes they’d trade Sherlock stories. John knew Greg loved his girls deeply. Even though the marriage to their mother was rocky he was crazy about Ashley and Tabitha. He’d do anything for them. It probably killed him he was at a loss now. The girls had been in France with their mother on holiday when everything started so unless Greg could sail there was no getting to them.  
  
Mycroft was MIA too. The most powerful and all knowing man in England had disappeared and was without a trace all these months. Greg at least cared about Mycroft, if he didn’t love him.  
  
Now Greg was alone. At least he probably felt that way.  
  
 “Go back to sleep. I can hear you thinking again.” Sherlock mumbled. “Lestrade is going to be ok.”  
  
“Stop reading my mind.” John spoke as thunder cracked loudly over the roof.  
  
Not fifteen second later Lily was bursting into their room, holding tight to a teddy bear and blanket she had grown attached to. “Hey, it’s ok love. It’s just a bit of weather.” John helped her up on to the bed.  
  
Sherlock had detached himself from John so Lily burrowed between them both and then hid under her blanket.  
  
“How’s your stomach?” John peeked under the blanket. “Better?”  
  
“Still herwts.” She frowned and pulled the blanket away from John as thunder sounded again.  
  
“Nothing’s going to hurt you. It’s ok.” John reassured her.  
  
Sherlock made an irritated noise before getting out of bed and leaving the room. John wanted to shout at him but he just settled back and attempted to sooth Lily. He had no idea what to say, really because he didn’t have much experience with kids.  
  
Luckily a minute later Sherlock came back into the bedroom carrying a book. He joined John and Lily back in bed after lighting a couple of candles by the nightstand. John realised it was the Grimm’s fairytale book that Sherlock was slowing working his way through.  
  
“Once upon a time…”


	14. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas time.

Months passed fast at times and at other times agonisingly slow for the group. Before John knew it on one snowy morning Sherlock was informing him that it was December 20th. That meant it was over six months since the RLF outbreak took place. About five months since they moved into the house in the hill. It was also nearly Christmas. John didn’t want to think about the holiday though, figured it was just something else to be left behind in their former life.  
  
Summer was long and hot. Everyone was irritable, especially Sherlock. Although Sherlock’s experimenting with the RLF kept him busy he still got into long, terrible strops. And when Sherlock was unhappy, everyone was unhappy. He lashed out at them all. He let off hurtful deductions. He made Molly and Lily both cry. He stomped on Greg’s heart. He gave cutting remarks to Sally and Josh. When he wasn’t being rude he was curled up in bed, not talking to the world. Every once and awhile he’d complain to John about his brain rotting and that he couldn’t think.  
  
His interest in zombies did give him something to concentrate on when he wasn’t in a mood. He was excited to see how it reacted to various things. He let it out one day and watched it wander. When he got bored once he went down to Rye, with John and Aife, to observe the mob of RLFs from the roofs. It was a nice day spent on rooftops reading and chatting with Aife while Sherlock obsessed over the zombies. The only thing Sherlock found was a zombie starved after five weeks of not being fed. John thought this was important information but Sherlock wasn’t as thrilled with it. He went on and on about not being able to do a thing with out proper equipment. Those were the days that usually ended up in shouting between the group.  
  
As the summer waned the group prepared for the winter ahead, giving them all something to focus on. They stacked firewood, stocked up on other people’s canned food and bottled water, hunted, and preserved the meat. They collected warm clothes from the stores as well as extra bedding in case the nights got too cold. John was looking forward to the winter because maybe it would kill the RLFs around the world. The ones in the village had all starved without food but he knew there still must be plenty in populated areas. He kept that thought to him self because he didn’t want to seem too hopeful. Sherlock would definitely take a few verbal jabs at him for it.  
  
After informing Molly what day it almost was, “We should do something for Christmas!” She lit up. Since she began her relationship with Keaghan she was almost back to her cheery self. Every so often she would seem down but so did everyone else. John thought Keaghan and Molly were adorable together. Sherlock on the other hand detested the constant public displays of affection. They were constantly holding hands, hugging, and kissing. They had moved into Greg’s room, who offered to take the living room for them to have some privacy.  
  
“I don’t know Molls.” John rolled the bottle of water between his hands. They were alone in the kitchen. Sherlock, Nick, and Aife had gone to the village to observe how the RLFs were decomposing. Sherlock somehow talked the two into it. Greg, Keaghan, Josh, and Sally were in the living room playing some card game. Lily was in there as well working on a puzzle. She loved puzzles, if John didn’t know better he would think that she was Sherlock’s child.  
  
“Lily deserves a nice little Christmas. I think we could all use a bit of Christmas spirit. We could go get a tree tomorrow and maybe a few of us could go to the village and get some gifts for her.”  
  
John shifted in his seat, “I guess I couldn’t see anything wrong with that.”

  
Molly clapped, “Oh I remember seeing some Christmas things down in the basement!”  
  
“I shouldn’t have said a word to you.” He chuckled. “Sherlock is going to hate me.” Just like everything Sherlock hated Christmas.  
  
She snorted a laugh, “We’ll just have to have mistletoe in your doorway.”  
  
“I don’t think that will change a thing.” He snickered. “I guess this could be nice. Let’s take a peak at what we have for decorations.”  
  
“That’s the spirit, John.”

* * *

Sherlock huffed in annoyance, “I was hoping we would avoid teaching Lily about Father Christmas and all those other fictional things.” He folded his arms across his chest.  
  
“Well, guess not.” John rolled over, throwing an arm and a leg over Sherlock. “Fictional things, you’re the one who reads her fairytales every night.”  
  
When Sherlock came home they had been decorating the house with the decorations they had found. Keaghan was telling Lily about Father Christmas and Sherlock nearly had a stroke over it. John was surprised that he could get him to not go off on a tangent about it by simply asking about the RLFs.  
  
“Books are different. We’re encouraging her to believe in something that is not real and one day she will find out the truth with Father Christmas It’s not as if she has to be around her peers who believe in such things because of their idiotic parents. Even still I would never want my child-”  
  
John scrambled so he was leaning on his elbows, looking over Sherlock, “Your child?”  
  
“I’m talking in hypothetical terms.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
  
“You’ve been acting as her father, you know. She loves you. I mean she gets on well enough with everyone but she’s attached to your hip…ah, when you’re not in a mood that is.” Even when he was at times he would still give Lily attention.  
  
“Can we please go to sleep? I’m exhausted.” He pulled the duvet to his chin.  
  
“It’s ok to feel paternal, Sherlock.”  
  
“Shut up.”

John just smiled before settling back into bed.

* * *

The next day they went in search of a Christmas tree. Sherlock even joined with little pushing from John.  
  
Lily ran around in circles in small grove of trees they drove to. She hadn’t been outside the fence in months. He kept a close eye on her in case any zombies were around but he was happy to see Lily enjoying herself.  
  
Once they picked a tree and chopped it down they brought it back home to decorate.  
  
“I like how Christmas-y it feels.” Sally inspected the living room. The light of the candles and fireplace caught the tinsel that was hanging around the room in just the right way.  
  
“Not right without a few gifts though.” Aife set a few things under the tree.  
  
John gave her a look, “Where did those come from?”  
  
“Our little trip to Rye.” She informed John as she arranged the presents. “I wanted to pick up some things and talked to the boys into it as well.”  
  
“Sherlock got gifts?” John raised a questioning eyebrow.  
  
“Just two.” Nick flashed a smile at John.  
  
“Well I think a few of us should go back down tomorrow.”  
  
“I agree.” Molly said and Keaghan nodded in an agreement. “I want a proper Christmas.”  
  
While every one else, except for Sherlock, were trading stories of their favourite Christmases, Greg sat silently in the armchair at the corner of the room. John knew better and kept his mouth closed but he couldn’t help but feeling sad for him. This was probably the first Christmas he was spending alone.  
  
“Stop worrying about Greg, again.” Sherlock rumbled as they sat in bed later that night.  
  
John just shook his head, “What’d you buy me?” He didn’t want to get into a conversation about Greg with Sherlock.  
  
“How do you know it was for you?”  
  
“Lily, what did you get her then?”  
  
“Aren’t gifts supposed to be surprises?” Sherlock raised his book closer to his face, avoiding John’s eyes.  
  
He kissed Sherlock on the cheek, “You’re sweet and you don’t even know it.”  
  
“Bugger off.”  
  
“Git.”

* * *

On Christmas morning John woke up to Lily kneeing him in the stomach as she scrambled on to the bed, “Fu-ow.” He sucked in air.  
  
“Sorry.” She frowned.  
  
“It’s ok, love.”  
  
“Christmas!” Lily sat cross legged in the gap between John and Sherlock.  
  
Sherlock groaned next to them.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Presents!”  She smiled widely.  
  
“Keaghan got you a riled up last night, surprised you even slept. Did you hear Father Christmas on the roof? Hmm?” He yawned as he sat up against the headboard.  
  
Sherlock made an even louder noise and John reached over and flicked his ear.  
  
“No. I-I fell a-sleep.” She pouted. John was happy that he was actually able to talk to her now.  
  
“Ah, me too. What do you say we get everyone up and have breakfast and open gifts?”  
  
“Yeah!”  
  
“Come on, Sherlock.” John patted the other man’s shoulder.  
  
“Up ‘Lock! Up!” Lily bounced on the bed.  
  
“If you don’t wake up you won’t get your gift.” John said teasingly.  
  
“You got me a gift?” Sherlock asked sceptically. “Where is it? It’s not under the tree.”  
  
“Well you won’t know until you join us all for breakfast.” John grinned. “Come on Lil, he’ll make his way down soon enough.” He threw back the duvet and slid out of bed. “Let’s get you dressing gown before heading down. Don’t want you cold.” John said as he put his on. “Sherlock, coming?’  
  
Sherlock dramatically got out of bed, “Yes, coming.”  
  
Downstairs everyone else was already awake and milling about the kitchen. Once they all had something to eat they went into the living room. There were wrapped gifts under the tree, Molly insisted on wrapping every last thing. The fire was lit. The group was settled in, in their PJs. It almost felt like a proper Christmas to John. Everyone looked happy, as if they forgot about what the world was like outside the fence for a little while.  
  
Lily had acquired a fair amount of gifts. Her most prized was a set of fairy tale books from Sherlock. He said she needed something other than the Grimm tales. John received three black leather bound notebooks and new pencils from Sherlock, saying he wanted John to start writing about their experiences thus far and in the future. He had thought about it in the past, chronicling their journey, but never sat down to do so. It could be important if mankind survived this.  
  
Sherlock ignored everyone’s comments about how he picked out two very good gifts for two people he cared about.  
  
“John, have you become an expert at lying because you’ve said there was a gift for me but I don’t see anything under the tree still? Thought it would find it’s way there last night.”  
  
“Prat.” He muttered. “I didn’t put it under the tree because you would have sat there trying to deduce it the whole time. Stay there, I’ll get it.” He ventured down to the basement. Thankfully when he had returned from Rye the other day Sherlock was in their room lost in his mind palace so it gave him time to hid it.  
  
John lugged the large box upstairs and set it on the floor in front of Sherlock, “There you go, Happy Christmas.”  
  
Sherlock just looked at the box.  
  
“Open it!” Lily clapped. “I help?”  
  
“No love, Sherlock wants to do it on his own. He’s just thinking. Stop trying to deduce what it is and open it.” John folded his arms.  
  
The consulting detective finally unwrapped the gift. First pulling out the folded up music stand, “John.” Sherlock said softly as he set aside a stand of sheet music. “You…” He finally pulled out the violin case. “Oh.”  
  
“Felt a bit funny not paying for it.” John said. The whole time in the music shop he felt like he was stealing. Even after months of taking things from other people’s homes and empty shops it still felt odd. If the world got back to what it was before John promised himself he’d go back and pay for it.  
  
“John.” He said again after opening the case. He was sitting on his knees with his hands flat on his lap, looking like he was worshiping the instrument. “This is…”  
  
“You’ve rendered Sherlock Holmes speechless, congratulations.” Sally said in a surprised tone.

“I’ve got a knack for it.” John grinned playfully. “Play something for us.”  
  
Sherlock smiled widely as he raised the violin to his shoulder.

* * *

After Sherlock showed John how thankful he was for the violin in the privacy of their room and before dinner John couldn’t find Greg. He had an odd feeling about it so he went looking. He eventually went outside the fence to find the DI looking over the ocean.  
  
“You’re all acting like it’s a normal bloody Christmas. We go on day-to-day and act like nothing is wrong. Everything is wrong.” He said gruffly before John could even open his mouth.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be. You and Sherlock have everything you want. You have each other. You get to help people. Sherlock gets to solve puzzles. You have an abnormal amount of bloodshed. You don’t have anyone at home to worry…worry if they’re still alive. You can be happy when everyone else isn’t. Do you even miss Mrs. Hudson?” His voice broke. He kept his eyes on the ocean. John’s heart hurt. Of course he missed her. He thought about her a lot when things were quiet. “But the rest of them are getting on all right too.”  
  
John looked down to the snow beneath his feet, unsure of what to say.  
  
“Looks like you finally found my breaking point, mate. You’ve been asking me how I am every so often. Here you go.” Greg took a deep breath.  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
“Talk about how my girls could possibly be zombies? If they’re alive they’re probably somewhere uncomfortable and they’re probably cold and hungry and I’m not there to help. We’re sitting here celebrating Christmas and they’re-I don’t know where they are but they probably aren’t happy and celebrating. Then there’s fucking Mycroft. If he were still alive we’d know by now. So he’s…he’s dead and I have to accept that.”  
  
John frowned.  
  
“I don’t need you to say a thing to me or help me with this, ok? You can go back inside and enjoy the rest of the night. I know you want to help John, but you can’t make everyone feel better all the time. Go back inside.”  
  
“You’re not going to…” _Jump off the cliffs into the water?_  
  
“No…I’m just thinking. I just need sometime alone.”  
  
John left his friend behind reluctantly and went back inside.  
  
Lily was sitting in front of Sherlock on the floor, looking at a puzzle. Sally, Josh, Nick, and Aife were chatting by the fire. Molly and Keaghan were in the kitchen laughing. John felt a bit uneasy as he took a seat next to Sherlock. Greg was right. Everyone was comfortable. Outside of a few rows here and there nothing substantial had happened since Sherlock got lost so many months ago. Shouldn’t they be comfortable? “John, you’re freezing.” The detective rubbed a hand up his leg.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Sherlock studied his face, “Oh. You’re worried. Greg.”

“Not now.” John pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s jaw.  
  
Sherlock pouted and ran a finger across John’s brow.  
  
“PDA, that’s a first.” Josh drawled.  
  
“Bug-”  
  
“Sherlock, innocent ears.” John glanced to Lily who was engrossed in finding her next piece.  
  
It wasn’t long until Greg finally returned to the house. He didn’t mention how he was feeling but all that John cared about for the time was that Greg was all right.

They sat down for dinner not long after, Greg included. Nick had killed a deer the other day just for Christmas. John wasn’t the biggest fan of venison but it was better than nothing.  
  
“Molly won’t be having any wine.” Sherlock announced as Aife went to pour some in her glass. “Being three months along and all.”  
  
“What?!” Nearly everyone looked at her.  
  
She blushed, “Sherlock…”  
  
“She hasn’t said a thing because she thinks some of us will complain about having another mouth to feed. You really should have consulted with John, at least over prenatal care. He wouldn’t have told anyone. Well maybe me but I wouldn’t care to gossip.” Sherlock cut into his piece of meat.  
  
“I-yes-I’m pregnant.”  
  
John smiled, “Molls, you should have said something right away.”  
  
“None of us care.” Aife shook her head. “Plus I needed to know that I’m going to be an aunt!”  
  
“Aife’s right, we’re happy for you.” Sally tipped her glass in Molly’s direction.  
  
“Congratulations.” Greg said quietly.  
  
“Lily, how do you feel about a baby?”  
  
“Baby!” She smiled and clapped. “Yeah!”  
  
“I think we all approve.” John ruffled Lily’s hair.


	15. Hudson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John have a row that is interrupted by Molly's contractions.

Molly progressed through her pregnancy nicely, as far as John could tell without the proper equipment. She was so excited about bringing a life into the world for the most part. There were a couple of times that she was nervous because life wasn’t the same as it was when she was a kid but she was positive that she could make the best of it. John didn’t have any doubt that she would. They bought baby things up from Rye and made some space in Molly and Keaghan’s room for the crib. Aife even had a little baby shower her.  
  
Molly’s pregnancy was one of few positive things for five months. It seemed as if everyone had a point where they were about to lose their minds.  
  
Even John questioned his mental health at one point. He found himself questioning life after a long row with Sherlock. He wasn’t sure what the point of life was after nearly a year into the apocalypse. He wanted his bad telly. He wanted a cup of tea. He wanted his bed. He wanted a newspaper. He wanted to chase down real, live criminals. He just wanted his old life. Being stuffed into a house with so many people was hard. It was harder because they had nearly nothing to occupy them, especially in the winter. John wanted out. But that night Sherlock took him to bed and reminded him how good it was to be alive.  
  
Sherlock had multiple mental breaks, which John couldn’t stop. John was sure the man was going to go completely barmy. He would shout and scratch out terrible sounds from his violin. There was a week that he didn’t speak once. John was terrified that he wouldn’t speak again.  
  
But he was speaking fine again, “I’d rather die than live here a minute more!” Sherlock bellowed in the kitchen.  
  
John threw his book down on the table, causing Sally and Nick to jump. He stomped into the kitchen where Sherlock was standing looking up at the ceiling. “What the bloody hell is your problem?”  
  
“You.” Sherlock stepped up to him, toe to toe. John knew the other man just wanted a fight by the look in his eyes. “I can’t stand looking at you anymore. You’re happy and content and don’t care that I haven’t solved this problem. You’re an idiot, John Watson. Worthless. Tiny mind.”  
  
John clenched his fists and tried to breathe. “Leave! Get out of here. Go live in Rye. Go watch your precious zombies somewhere else. Go on! If you want to die go die out there. Go run around England by yourself. You fucking arsehole! Take your fucking things and leave. I won’t be talked to like that in this relationship!” He yelled. John couldn’t take the sulking anymore. He couldn’t take the long days of sitting in silence with the other man. John had listened to far too many cutting remarks sent at him from Sherlock when he did speak.  
  
“You are intolerable! I will gladly pack my bags tonight and live down in town! You can stay here and play house.” Sherlock snarled.  
  
“Good, you won’t break my heart when you starve to death! Lily might be a bit sad though.” John threw at him.  
  
“Sod the child!” Sherlock threw his hands in the air.  
  
“I never want to see you again! I honestly can’t stand living through one of your bloody sulks again!”  
  
“Lovely, I’ll be leaving now!”  
  
“Fu-”  
  
“JOHN! JOHN! Molly’s going into labour!” Aife rushed into the kitchen.  
  
John turned to the redhead and completely ignored Sherlock. He really didn’t care if Sherlock left or not. That’s a lie because he loved Sherlock but he had to help Molly. “Where is she?”  
  
“Upstairs loo.”  
  
“Ok, go get everything I’ve told you to have prepared and meet me up there.” Aife was enthusiastic about helping John with the birth.  
  
John went up stairs after grabbing his kit and found Molly on the floor, “Hello, love. Having a baby? Bit early, yeah?” He washed his hands.  
  
“One month.” She gritted her teeth. “I was having contractions but I thought it was nothing but then my water broke.”  
  
“How long and how far apart are the contractions now?” John knelt down in front of her.

“’Bout 30 seconds. Ten minutes apart.”  
  
“Ok, once Aife gets up here I’ll check how far you’re dilated and we’ll go from there.” John hasn’t delivered a baby in sometime. Last time he had was in Afghanistan one day when they were on patrol. The mother didn’t make it but he needed to not think about that.  
  
As if on cue Aife appeared with clean towels and a bucket of water. He checked the dilation, “Well eight centimetres. Don’t think your baby wants to wait around today.” John smiled.  
  
“Where’s Keaghan? I need him up here now.”  
  
“Outside with Josh. I’ll get him.” Aife patted Molly’s shoulder.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
Aife left and Molly had another contraction, “You’re getting through these quite well.” John sat against the by her head. He felt bad he couldn’t give her anything to dull the pain.  
  
“John.” She said and looked over at him with wide, sad eyes.  
  
“What is it, love?”  
  
“I’m scared.”  
  
“You’re doing just fine, it’s going to be fine.”  
  
She frowned, “I…what if I can’t bring the baby up all right here?”  
  
“You will. You shouldn’t be worrying right now.” John took her hand. “You’re going to be a great mum.”  
  
“You think so?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
There was a long moment of silence after John checked her heart rate, “Are you ok? I heard you and Sherlock-”  
  
“Don’t worry about that.” He forced a smile.  
  
Keaghan burst in the door, “Now? You’re having the baby now? It can’t be time!”  
  
“Relax.” John laughed as Aife pushed her way in as well. It was a good thing the bathroom was a decent size. John was a bit concerned that the baby was coming a month early though.  
  
“How long?”  
  
“Her contractions are fairly close together and last I checked she was eight centimetres dilated so not too long, now.”  
  
“Ok, ok.” Keaghan nodded. He looked as frazzled as about to be father should be.

* * *

An hour later, “Push, Molls, come on, one last good push.” John encouraged her.  
  
“I don’t think I can!” She had tears streaming down her face.  
  
“You can do it, Molly!” Aife encouraged her.  
  
“Just once more.” John urged. “Then it’s over, I swear.”  
  
Not a minute later there was a crying baby in the bathroom, “It’s a boy.” John said as he cut the umbilical cord.  
  
“Is he healthy?”  
  
“I believe so.” He cleaned him up then settled him in Molly’s arm. She looked tired but so happy as she studied the baby in her arms. Keaghan had the brightest smile John had ever seen plastered on his face.  
  
“What’s his name?” Aife asked quietly.  
  
“Hudson.” Molly said with tears in her eyes.  
  
John cleared the lump in his throat, “That’s a great name.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I’m going to leave you all here for a moment, but I’d like to get you into bed soon.”  
  
“Ok.”  
  
“I’m going to inform the rest of the group we have a healthy baby and happy family.” John left them behind with Aife trailing after him. The rest of the group, aside from Sherlock and Lily, were sitting and standing near the bathroom.  
  
“How is she?” Greg asked.  
  
“She’s just fine, baby’s fine. It’s a boy. Everyone is healthy.” John nodded.  
  
“Good job, Doc.” Sally smiled.  
  
“Sherlock is having a massive sulk in your room right now and Lily is in there with him.”  
  
John rolled his eyes. He thought the man would actually leave just to show John.  
  
“You should apologise, you know how he is.” Aife said.  
  
“Nope.” John shook his head. “And sod him, we have a healthy baby!”  
  
“What’s the baby’s name?”  
  
“Hudson.” John said quietly.  
  
“Oh…that’s…lovely.”

* * *

John went into the bedroom after helping Molly to her own, almost reluctantly to find Lily curled up in Sherlock’s lap as he read to her. Sherlock glanced at him but focused on Lily until the story finished. “Lily could you go see Aife? Maybe you can see the baby.”  
  
“No.” She pouted and latched on to Sherlock. “No, you’ll leave.”  
  
John’s heart broke hearing Lily sound so distraught. “He won’t leave.” He said quickly.  
  
“But I heard you!” She was about to cry.  
  
“We were very angry. I will not leave but I must talk to John.”  
  
“It’s a big person’s talk.”  
  
“Adult.” Sherlock cringed.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yes.” John sat on the bed next to them.  
  
Lily sucked her lip as she thought, “Ok.”  
  
“All right, we’ll come have dinner when we’re done. Go on and find Aife like Sherlock said.”  
  
She nodded before hugging John.  
  
Once she left and John closed the door Sherlock stood up and kissed John like he wanted to consume him. “Sorry then?”  
  
“I feel like I’m losing my mind.” The detective nuzzled John’s neck. “I have nothing to focus on.”  
  
“I know.” John carded his fingers through the other man’s hair. “You can’t talk to me like that though. I’m sick of it. I don’t care how terrible you’re feeling, you don’t get to treat me like shite.”  
  
Sherlock nodded, “I could never live with out you.”  
  
“You’d never survive.”  
  
“I love you.”

John pulled back from the other man. They don’t say those words. Sure John thought about it but they don’t exchange those things.  
  
“I know…but I thought you should hear it. It seemed like the adequate time. Do not think that it will happen regularly though.”  
  
“Of course not.” John huffed a laugh. “I love you too, you know. So much it probably makes me crazy.”  
  
“Yes, well we’ve all been driven to madness here.” Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed.  
  
“Molly had the baby.”  
  
“Yes, I heard the screams.”  
  
“She’s ok and so is the baby. Do you care to know the name?”  
  
Sherlock shrugged.  
  
“Hudson. For Mrs. Hudson.”  
  
Sherlock closed his eyes and nodded.  
  
“I’d like to see her grave.”  
  
“We don’t need to waste petrol.”  
  
“I know.” John sighed. “She’d be so excited-”  
  
“Don’t talk in hypothetical’s.”

He nodded, “I know you miss her. It’s ok.”  
  
Sherlock looked to his lap and shrugged. “I’m famished.”  
  
“Shall we eat then? We did promise Lily.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Are we ever going to have a discussion about how we’ve become her parental unit or not?” It was true. The rest of the group cared for her but it was John and Sherlock who made sure she was learning or if she needed to be disciplined. She would always go to them first when she was scared or sad or excited. Sherlock read to her every single night. She’d snuggle with John. He wasn’t sure how it happened but they were a family.  
  
“You’re ridiculous, John.” Sherlock sniffed.  
  
“Right, well let’s go find her and have dinner.”  
  
“I’m sure you’re starved from working. Must have been nice. I do miss working so much.” He hung his head.  
  
“I know.” John pulled Sherlock up from the bed. “You will again someday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably going to be wrapped up this week thanks to spring break and staying up until 3am without anything to do. That chapter 14 would have been done a lot sooner but I was struck with another story idea and wrote 3,000 words on that. Whoops. But I'm putting that aside until I'm done this.


	16. Less Boring Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft finds the group and they return to London.

Three weeks after Hudson was born John, Sherlock, and Lily were coming home from a walk. John insisted on going out because it had rained for three straight days and they needed to get some fresh air. Sherlock complained but Lily pouted and won him over. The girl could sulk just as well as Sherlock. He’d never admit to that Lily changed his mind and John would never bring it up to avoid the row. John wished he could have Sherlock wrapped around his finger like that.  
  
Life in the house was a bit better. Things seemed to lighten up with the arrival of the baby. Everyone was happy to help take care of Hudson and there was very little complaining when he would cry at night.

As they walked up to the house two black SUVs were coming up the road. John thought he was seeing things. “Mycroft.” Sherlock said immediately, pulling the words from John’s mouth. He had been kidnapped enough to know a government vehicle when he saw one.  
  
He felt as if he was about to pass out. It had been one full year of isolation and now there were two cars, most likely holding Mycroft Holmes in one, coming towards them. Everyone had given up hope of returning to normal life. John tried his best to put London and the convenient comforts of civilisation out of his mind.  
  
Greg had given up hope of ever seeing Mycroft again.  
  
“Who’s that?” Lily clung to Sherlock’s leg as the SUVs stopped in front of the fence and Mycroft got out of the first one in his three-piece suit.  
  
“My brother.”  
  
John was the first to move. He couldn’t form any thoughts except, “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”  
  
“Ah, good to see you as well, Doctor.” His lips curled into a smile.  
  
“I didn’t mean-I meant-”  
  
“John means, what took you so long?” Sherlock finally joined him, holding Lily. His tone was bored.  
  
“Hmm, a child, interesting.” Mycroft was no doubt making deductions about their new life. “What took me so long was trying to contain a pandemic far worse than the Bubonic Plague.” He informed them. “Now if we could please step inside I’d like to inform you both and who ever else is here on the state of things then I can take you back to London.”  
  
John was gobsmacked.  
  
“Of course, brother _dear_.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
  
The doctor followed Sherlock mindlessly into the yard, “Did I hear-” John looked up to see Greg with wide eyes staring at Mycroft.  
  
“Gregory.” John glanced at Mycroft to see his expression soften. He was sure that he had never seen Mycroft look soft once before. “I didn’t think…I thought you would have stayed in London.”

Greg didn’t say a word. He turned back and went into the house. That wasn’t what John was expecting for their reunion.  
  
“Who else do you have here?” Mycroft asked as they approached the house, ignoring the fact that Greg had walked off without saying a thing.  
  
“Molly Hooper, Donovan, and Anderson. As well as a group of four we found in Rye.”  
  
Mycroft nodded, “No Mrs. Hudson? I thought-”  
  
“She’s dead.” Sherlock said coldly.  
  
Mycroft kept quiet.  
  
They entered the house where everyone was in the kitchen having lunch, “Hey, come eat.” Sally poked her head out then dropped the bowl of lettuce when she saw Mycroft.  
  
“Hello, Detective Donovan.”  
  
“Does this-does this mean that everything is all right?” As she spoke everyone else came out towards the living room.  
  
“My god.” Anderson’s mouth was hanging open.  
  
“Mycroft!” Molly jumped. “Can we go home?”  
  
“If we could all sit down at once and chat about this…that would be ideal. Will someone please retrieve Gregory?” Mycroft looked around.  
  
“Who’s this?” Nick questioned.  
  
“Mycroft Holmes? Sherlock’s brother. He’s got that secret agent feel about him.” Aife guessed.  
  
“You would be correct…Miss…”  
  
“Riley, Aife Riley. This is my brother Keaghan.”  
  
“Ah, Miss Hooper and Mr. Riley, congratulations.” Mycroft said upon seeing the baby in Keaghan’s arms.  
  
“Oh! Thank you, Mycroft.” Molly beamed.  
  
“That is Lieutenant Nick White. Now that we have all introduced ourselves I would like to hear what Mycroft has to tell us.” Sherlock was basically vibrating with anticipation.  
  
“We need Gregory first.” Mycroft looked around.  
  
“Why don’t you go and retrieve him?” John suggested.  
  
“I…I’m not sure if that is a very good idea.” Mycroft took a seat in the armchair.  
  
“Nope, no. You’re going to talk to Greg.”  
  
Sherlock made a grunting noise and threw himself on to the couch in a dramatic way he could only manage, “Yes please, let us deal with this trivial business before talking about what is actually important.”  
  
“Sherlock.” John warned as Lily climbed onto Sherlock’s back.  
  
“Retrieve Lestrade now and then they can chat all they like! Preferably in the car back to London!” Sherlock yelled and Lily laughed.

“Ok, fine.” John nodded. “I’ll-”  
  
“No you will not! You’ll feel the need to talk to him. Lily, would please go get Lestrade from the garden?”  
  
She scurried off without word, “Sherlock, you can’t use her like that.” John basically pulled Sherlock to sit up but the man just jumped up and began pacing as everyone began to get comfortable. They were all eager to hear from Mycroft.  
  
“Please, John there’s more trying business on hand!” Sherlock glared at him. “Mycroft please get on with it.”  
  
“Patience, Sherlock.”  
  
“PATIENCE!?! You want me to have patients when all I’ve been doing is sitting around waiting for something to happen for a year. You’ve been busy though. You’ve recently been given an even higher title and have just travelled back from the US. Things aren’t going as well over there as they are here. You had hope that John and I were alive and found us because you remembered something. You remembered what I had said as a child about living in this house by the sea. Silly little thing but it was helpful. You have been distraught about Lestrade, lost weight with worry. Mummy is alive, I see.” Sherlock rattled of.  
  
“Wait, you said you didn’t know where you wanted to go in Rye.” John looked up to Sherlock. “You wanted to move here as a kid?”  
  
“Yes we spent a week during one summer in Rye as children. Sherlock was so interested in this house because he thought it would be the perfect place to live as he could keep an eye on his pirate ship.”  
  
John laughed so hard that his sides hurt and he had tears at the corner of his eyes. It probably wasn’t that funny. John was sure that he was losing it. “Oh-god. That’s brilliant. No wonder why you left me in the dark about why you wanted to come here. You know I’d get a good chuckle out of it. How sweet.”  
  
“Do shut up, John.”  
  
“Oi! What did I say-”  
  
“It’s nice to see you two finally put aside your stubbornness and such and finally are together. It took you long enough.”  
  
“This has nothing to do with what is important.” Sherlock yelled as Lily skipped back into the living room with Greg trailing behind her.  
  
“Fantastic, we’re all here. Now, Mycroft, tell us what has happened.”  
  
“Well as you know this was a neurodegenerative virus and I’ll spare the technical details for John and Sherlock later, as I’m sure they’re both interested. But the virus was concocted in a lab in North Korea and was spread as an act of terrorism. It was first given to a homeless man in Florida and seeing that it worked North Korea began spreading it as fast as the could. The virus manages to shut down the brain down, leaving only the amygdala and ventromedial hypothalamus active. The amygdala is only triggered to fight and the ventromedial hypothalamus is essentially broken, leaving them constantly hungry. Luckily zombies do starve if they do not eat, which you know seeing Sherlock’s reaction.  
  
“Most countries crumbled as the virus spread quickly but as these RLFs are now starving we’re able to control things much easier. Surely in larger countries there are some still around but I believe we as a nation are zombie free.  
  
“We lost 90 percent of the world’s population. The United States, India and China were the hardest hit. Cities with large populations were the next. In some places innocent people were killed by the military in order to contain the spread. Here in London we lost the Queen and the Prime Minister. I am currently executing the duties of the PM until we are able to set up an election.  
  
“We’re currently recruiting people for jobs in the military as well as industrial production. Luckily there are still many working farms. There has been a steady stream of people moving to London. Many outside towns and villages are still without power, like here in Rye. The infrastructure is now in place in London though. You are able to move back to your homes in the city today.” Mycroft explained in a calm and even tone. John sat in silence, trying to comprehend everything.  
  
“We still need Doctors and Detectives and Forensics, which means there are positions awaiting all of you. Ah well all of you I know. I’m sure we can find you two a farm and the military is very much in need of men.” He looked to Aife, Keaghan, and Nick.  
  
“He does the deduction thing too.” Aife snickered.  
  
There were a few questions asked by the rest of the group but they didn’t register in John’s brain. He was too busy trying to process that London was only a short trip away and he would be able to sleep at their flat on Baker Street tonight.  
  
Sherlock finally stopped pacing, “Let’s return now.” He looked to John. “At this very moment. I’ll pack our things.”  
  
“Breathe.” John reminded him. “Ah, do you know if my family…”

“Yes I contacted your family as well as your acquaintances here, if I could find them, in order to track you down before I remembered Sherlock’s childhood dream. Harriet is a live and well, very sober too. Your mother and father…I’m sorry.”  
  
John frowned and nodded. He hated that he didn’t feel as sad as he did when Mrs. Hudson passed.  
  
“I’m sorry, John.” Molly said softly. “You looked into our families?”  
  
“Yes, Molly and yours are safe. They had made it to a secure military base. Donovan, Anderson, Gregory your immediate families are all fine as well…including Tabitha and Ashley.” He looked to Greg.  
  
“Why’d you wait so long to find us?” Greg clenched his jaw.  
  
John could sense they needed to talk so he stood up from his seat “Ah, we should…ah pack.” He followed Sherlock upstairs as the rest of the group sat chatting.  
  
“London, John! Crimes! Surely there’s going to be increase of poverty, meaning more crimes. Oh this is fantastic.” Sherlock practically pranced into their room.  
  
John sighed, “What are we going to do with Lily?”  
  
“Mycroft will find family, I’m sure.”  
  
John frowned, “Until then?”  
  
“You don’t honestly believe that we can take a child into our home?” Sherlock pulled out his old pack and set it on the bed.  
  
“You’re not going to miss her? You don’t care about her?”  
  
“We have no rights to the child. Surely she as family. If not-”  
  
“I’m not letting her go into the system.” John watched Sherlock pack his things then stop suddenly.  
  
“What am I doing? The only things I need are my phone and violin.” He tossed the bag aside.  
  
“Sherlock!”  
  
“John, we can not take her in.” He spoke evenly.  
  
“We can’t just send her to some home that she doesn’t know with people she doesn’t know.” John watched Sherlock search for his violin. “She’ll close up again and stop talking.”  
  
“Do you really believe that our life in London is compatible with raising a child? We chase after criminals. Criminals want to blow us up. We are gone frequently at night. Sometimes we don’t return to the flat for days on end. You’ll also most likely be working at Barts when we return home. Do you want to put Lily in danger?”  
  
“No.” John put his head in his hands, “Fine. You’re right. Our lifestyle in London doesn’t leave much room for a child.” He had to give in. Sherlock was right but it didn’t make it any easier to leave behind this little person they had taken care of for a year.  
  
“Yes, I knew you’d come around to it. Now, let’s go.” He held up his violin case.  
  
“We have to at least take her until Mycroft finds a home.”  
  
“Fine, ok.” Sherlock agreed. “No more than a week. Maybe one of the others would be interested in adoption. It’s quite doubtful though.”  
  
“Thank you.” John kissed Sherlock soundly. “Thank you.” John circled his arms around Sherlock’s skinny waist and pulled him close. “I can’t believe what’s happening. It’s all coming back together. It’s going to be strange, isn’t it?”  
  
“No, it’s going to be normal. That’s boring but less boring than our current normal.”  
  
“Yes, of course. But I think we’re going to have some problems with the reentry.”  
  
“PTSD?”  
  
“Possibly.” John sighed. “We’re actually going home.”  
  
“Yes, let’s go.”  
  
“Can I grab my stuff? And you are packing your things that you carried here.”

* * *

Everyone was in their rooms packing when John and Sherlock went back downstairs. Mycroft was sitting in the armchair alone. “Are you and Greg ok?” John asked.  
  
“We’re fine, John. He was just angry with me not being able to find him earlier. But he’s all right now.”  
  
John looked around to make sure Lily wasn’t hiding anywhere, “So, unless if anyone wants to adopt Lily, we’d like you to find her family…or ah have someone do that.”  
  
“I’ve already contacted someone about it. Miss Riley gave me her information. It seems that no one else wants to adopt the child. It’s odd because the both of you care for her so much.” Mycroft studied them. “For the best though.”  
  
“Yes, I thought so.” Sherlock stood up straight.  
  
“So you’ll be returning to 221B I presume.”  
  
“Yes, since Mrs. Hudson’s passing I’d like to purchase 221.” Sherlock said.  
  
“You won’t have to. She left you the flat. I saw the paperwork when she amended her will.”  
  
John’s ears were buzzing and he felt lightheaded. “John, is everything all right?”  
  
“Ah, yeah…just…” He felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest. “I think I’m having a panic attack. Um, I’m just going to go outside.”  
  
“Do you-”  
  
“No, um, I need air. Alone.” John held his chest as he went for the door. Everything was just happening so fast it was overwhelming. The last time he had a panic attack was before Sherlock. Before running around London at night after madmen with his own madman. He shouldn’t be having one now that his life was going to return to normal.  
  
Five minutes later Sherlock’s voice came from behind him, “Are…are you ok?”  
  
“Yeah.” John leaned against the rail, looking over the property.  
  
“We’re going to purchase this land as long there are no landholders alive. Well I am. I figure it may be nice to have a get away from London every so often. I know you’re fond of this house.” Sherlock stood next to him and took his hand.  
  
“That’s…nice.” John squeezed Sherlock’s hand.  
  
“We’re leaving as soon as everyone is ready.”  
  
“It’s funny that no one wants to take their time to leave.”  
  
“Of course not there’s nothing here. We moved here in the name of survival.”  
  
“Where are Aife and Nick going to live?” John asked.  
  
“Since we are now owners of three flats, I was going to see if they would like to stay in 221A or C. They’d have to pay rent of course.”  
  
“That’s nice of you.”  
  
“I’m just thinking-”  
  
John just shook his head, “Ok.”

* * *

They rode back to London in the SUV with Mycroft, Greg, Lily, Aife, and Nick. Nick and Aife were thrilled to take one of the flats. John did like the idea of having them around.  
  
Sherlock also had been right about no one wanting to have the responsibility of raising Lily. John wished that someone would bring themselves to take her. He really wished Sherlock would change his mind but he didn’t have much hope for that.  
  
Lily spent the entire ride curled up in Sherlock’s lap sucking her thumb.  
  
The hour and forty minute ride into the city passed quickly. They didn’t take the way they had walked to Rye and John was ok with that. He didn’t want to relive each attack or painful rest spot. He did want to stop at Mrs. Hudson’s grave but Sherlock and he could do that another day.  
  
As the approached the city John was surprised at how normal things looked. There were cars on the road. People walking about. Nothing was burning. There were no tanks. There was no military presence. It was all normal. He couldn’t believe his eyes.  
  
They dropped Greg off first at what had to have been his former wife’s flat where the girls were. John could see how relieved and happy the DI was as he scrambled out of the car. Sherlock made him promise to call with the first good case that he received at work.  
  
The car then took the remaining passengers to the front of 221 Baker Street. John stood on the pavement for a moment looking up at the building. Speedy’s was open. There were no boards on any of the flat’s doors or windows (Mycroft had them removed). “Come on, then we should get things settled then go to the shops. Mycroft says there are some food shortages but we may find some staples.” Sherlock tugged John inside.  
  
The flat was better than they had left it. No furniture was torn apart. “Oh, Mycroft and his team did a good job in disturbing the dust.” Sherlock set Lily down.  
  
They had showed Nick and Aife the other flats and they were busy deciding what to do. John said that they would help pack Mrs. Hudson’s belongings over the next few days.  
  
“It’s like we never left.” John brushed his hand along his laptop on the desk.  
  
“Don’t touch anything, I’d like to catalogue the accumulation, please.”  
  
John laughed, just like old times.

He looked down to Lily to see her peering around the flat, “Well I guess we can set your things upstairs for now.”  
  
“Am I staying here forever?”  
  
He looked to Sherlock with a frown, “Just until we find your family. Ok?”  
  
Lily didn’t say anything. She went over to her bag and pulled out a book.  
  
“Should I go to the shops?”

Sherlock didn’t say a word as he was inspecting the flat, “Ok, I will. Lily, why don’t you come with?”  
  
She nodded.

* * *

Shopping was odd for a few reasons. One being for a year he had to hunt, pick, or nick food. The other, there were other people in the store. People who he hadn’t lived under the same roof with for a year. It was somewhat exhausting. Lily seemed amazed by the whole experience. He some how managed to use the chip and PIN machine without having a row.  
  
When he returned home Sherlock was clacking away at his laptop to so he made tea (with an electric kettle!) after putting the little food that he had bought away. Lily sat on the floor playing.  
  
John made Sherlock eat dinner then they watched telly. That was strange they could do that. John didn’t even think of it before Lily had turned it on by herself.  
  
Afterwards they put Lily to bed in John’s former room. John’s old clothes were still in his laundry bag. Sherlock read her a story as John gathered some of his things to bring downstairs. He didn’t realize how much he missed his things. Sure he lived without them but they were all nice to have.  
  
After such an exhausting day John was ready to sleep once they tucked Lily in and surprisingly Sherlock wanted to join him.  
  
“We should leave the door open a bit and the hallway light on incase she needs us. So keep your body parts to yourself tonight.” John said coming into Sherlock’s room.  
  
“Yes, Captain.” Sherlock grumbled into his pillow.  
  
As they curled up in bed John couldn’t get comfortable. He could hear the city outside. It wasn’t the quiet country that he had grown accustomed to. It was strange because when it had all begun John couldn’t stand the quiet. It wasn’t only the quiet that was bothering him. It was the fact that everything seemed to be tied up in a nice shiny bow out of nowhere. Mycroft just showed up and carted them back to London as if the RLFs didn’t overtake the country-the world for some time. He almost felt like the entire day had been a dream.  
  
“Stop thinking, you’re annoying me.” Sherlock mumbled into John’s shoulder.

“Sorry.”  
  
“You should be relaxed.”  
  
“Yeah, well I can’t with all the bloody noise.”  
  
“You’ll readjust soon enough.” Sherlock spoke as their door creaked open even more and Lily poked her head in. “Seems as if you’re not the only one with a problem. Come on, Lily.”  
  
“What’s wrong, love?” John asked as she settled on the bed by their feet.

“I can’t sleep.” She pouted.  
  
John sighed and sat up, “All right, why don’t we read a bit more?”  
  
Sherlock read until three in the morning. John liked listening to Sherlock’s voice tell fairytales. He had had grown into the habit of using different voices for different characters. Lily had fallen asleep well before three, John was sure but the other man read out loud anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Used this to read up on the zombie virus: http://www.cnn.com/2011/HEALTH/04/25/zombie.virus.zombies.book/index.html
> 
> Also happy first day of shooting!


	17. Signs of Another Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues in London.

It took sometime to readjust to life in London. At first it was tough to get through a day with out needing a nap. John found that he had to pace himself on his errands because whenever he went out to deal with the public it seemed like a big affair. The first time he took the tube he nearly passed out from the stress. Sherlock was no help in doing things like going to the store, the bank, or the post office because he was busy reading stories about RLFs on the Internet. But being back in Baker Street made him feel better each time he returned.  
  
They had helped Aife and Nick pack up Mrs. Hudson’s flat a few days after returning. There were a couple of things John wanted to keep but much of it was sent to charity. He figured there were probably people who needed things now and Mrs. H would like them to go to good use. It was a bit heart breaking to put her life away in boxes. John had to relive the mourning process all over again and spent much of the next day in bed. A few weeks later he forced Sherlock to go to the gravesite and they planted flowers. John and Sherlock sat at the grave, for what seemed like hours, in silence. Neither of them talked about it but they both understood how sad they were and how much they each missed her.  
  
He found himself dealing with a lot of anxiety on their return to London. It wasn’t PTSD because he wasn’t worried about an RLF attacking him each time he went outside nor was he having nightmares about it. At first he did worry a bit about an attack but Mycroft assured him it was completely safe now. John decided he was experiencing culture shock and it was triggering his anxiety. He had grown so accustom to the way of life in Rye that it was difficult to reintegrate to London.  
  
John picked up work in the A&E at St. Bart’s immediately on his return. Working should have been as exhausting as going to the shops but it helped him relax. Blood, broken bones, concussions, ect kept his mind clear. Greg was back at The Yard and promoted to Chief Inspector but before returning he took two weeks to spend with his family and Mycroft. Sally and Josh were both back on the force as well. Molly was back in the morgue at Bart’s. John enjoyed lunch with her every so often. She said that Keaghan received a decent paying job and position at a textile factory. Aife took a position at the local bakery while Nick was offered some sort of high position in His Majesty’s Army. Aife couldn’t say what it was but John knew Mycroft had something to do with it. He probably saw something he liked in Nick.  
  
John and Sherlock didn’t receive a case for three weeks. John couldn’t hold back his excitement when he watched Sherlock deduce that first crime scene. Then the chase through the city streets, concluding in the Thames, was everything John had remembered. After that his anxiety seemed to subside.  
  
Mycroft had found Lily’s aunt a week after they returned to London and she agreed to take Lily. Sherlock went with her the day that the caseworker came to take her to Sidcup. John was happy to hear that she would at least be somewhat close by but he didn’t want to see her go, at all. John stayed at home when Sherlock left with Lily because he just couldn’t bring himself to leave the flat. Lily cried when she left. Sherlock returned with a cold, closed off demeanor and informed John that Lily was in good hands then sulked on the couch. John didn’t dare argue with the detective about how they should have just kept her in the house. They didn’t hear from Lily’s new guardian once. John wasn’t sure if he wanted to be in her life or not. They weren’t family but he loved her anyway. Spending some much time with people did that. He felt a deep connection to everyone in the house.

Molly announced to John a month after Lily was moved into her aunt’s that her and Keaghan were going to be married in another month. She asked John to be a groomsman and he of course accepted. She asked John when he and Sherlock were going to be married but John just laughed. Sherlock would die before he became legally bound to anyone. He didn’t even want to go to the wedding because he was so against the idea.  
  
“I was hoping after the plague we could change some of our ways as a society. One of the institutions we should have done away with is marriage.” Sherlock complained as John did his cufflinks for him.

“Do not complain at the wedding, please.” John looked at his watch to make sure they weren’t running behind.  
  
“Fine. Only because you look delicious in that suit.” Sherlock looked at him like he was going to eat him.  
  
“Not now, can’t be late.”  
  
“Very well then, John.” He sighed loudly. “Maybe we can find a nice broom closet later.” One thing about living alone in 221B was that their sex life had taken a dramatic turn. At the house they had sex but it was often quick and quiet. But now Sherlock was enthusiastic about trying every position known to man on every single surface of the flat at anytime of day. He was sure that Nick and Aife were getting an earful some days.

“You’re a very bad man.” John looked once more in the mirror then headed for the door. “Come on.”  
  
He was looking forward to seeing everyone together. Since returning everyone had been busy with their own schedules. John and Sherlock had to cancel dinner on everyone once or twice due to an investigation.  
  
Of course John was the last to arrive, only a minute before he absolutely needed to be there. When he was up at the alter of the small church he looked in the pews to observe the crowd. There were about 50 people on hand. Friends and family, some co-workers. When John’s eyes landed on the second row he found Sherlock sitting with Lily in his arms. The woman next to him was teary eyed. He knew that was the aunt from Sherlock’s description after returning from leaving Lily behind. Sherlock was doing his best to look unaffected by whatever was happening.  
  
John could barely focus on the ceremony.

 

 

* * *

After the ceremony Sherlock walked out of the church, carrying Lily, before John could catch him. The aunt was nowhere to be found. When he finally found the detective outside in the churchyard he was crouched down in front of the child. “You will not go back there, don’t worry. John and I will take care of you from now on.” John couldn’t believe his ears. “I apologise that we left you. We assumed it was for the best.”  
  
“Wha-“  
  
Sherlock stood back up and picked the raven haired four and a half year old up. “John, good there you are.”  
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
“She’s not being fed properly. She was not sent to the preschool, which I had suggested when I had left her with that woman. She’s not being read to every night. No one is teaching her the proper things. She cries endlessly. Honestly, how did I believe that this was the correct thing to do? Stupid.”  
  
John was stunned, “We’re adopting her?”  
  
“Do keep up.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll have Mycroft draw up whatever paperwork we need, he’s coming this way.” Sherlock nodded in the direction Mycroft and Greg were walking from. “That horrid woman practically begged me to take her back.  
  
“Did you just abduct this child, Sherlock?” Mycroft studied his brother.  
  
“We’re adopting her. That woman was not taking care of her and she agreed that it’s best if John and I raise her. Seeing that Aife and Nick live at 221A now they’ll be available to help. We’ll move Lily into John’s old room. I want to enroll her in school right away.”  
  
Greg shot John a questioning look. John shrugged and shook his head.  
  
“I thought you and John did not have the lifestyle for a child.”  
  
“I just told you that Aife and Nick are able to help when we’re on a case.”  
  
Mycroft smiled, “I’ll see what I can do.” Mycroft was no longer acting PM. He was back to his old position of secretly running the government instead of being a figurehead. “Gregory, do you believe these two are fit parents?”  
  
“Surprisingly, yes.” Greg laughed. “Crazy buggers but they make a good parental unit somehow.”  
  
“Then I’ll get the ball rolling tomorrow.”

“No. Now. There’ll be plenty of cake, Mycroft.”

“It’s a Sunday evening. Tomorrow, Sherlock.”  
  
Sherlock pouted but nodded.  
  
John was now going to be a father. It shouldn’t have surprised him because his life was so crazy and Sherlock was unpredictable but it did.

The reception was nice and quiet. John spent it reminiscing with the group.  
  
Afterwards they picked up Lily’s things from her aunt’s home and headed back to 221B.

 

 

* * *

Two weeks later, ”This is fantastic, I knew you’d end up adopting her.” Aife watched John sign the hundredth paper to become one of Lily’s legal guardians. Sherlock was upstairs painting Lily’s room with Nick.  
  
No, not only were there papers for the guardianship. There were papers for Sherlock and John’s marriage. That was far more shocking than becoming a father.

_“Marry me.” Sherlock propped himself up on his elbow to look in John’s eyes._

_“I’m sorry, what did you just say because it sounded like a proposal? You just gave me a wonderful blow job without asking for something in return and now you’re asking to marry me?” John snorted laugh. “Who are you?”_  
  
 _“I’m not repeating myself. This is for practicality. I’d like to have joint custody of Lily and this is the only practical way. If something happens to one of us, I’d rather there not be a question of if the child were legally yours or mine. I’d also quite like her to carry the same last name as us. So it would be good for all of us to share the same last name. Watson-Holmes.”_  
  
 _John stared at him._  
  
 _“You want to marry me, just say yes so you don’t yell at me when I retrieve the paperwork for it from Mycroft.”_  
  
 _“Yes, of course, yeah.” John was sure that there was about to be another apocalypse because the Sherlock he knew would never 1.) adopt a child 2.) ask him to marry him. That’s not in his character. Those had to be signs of another one or maybe the world was just going to explode._  
  
 _“Excellent. Let me text Mycroft to set that up as well. Then you can do whatever that is done to celebrate a proposal. We might as well be somewhat traditional about it, even if it’s out of practicality.”_  
  
 _“It’s not even a little bit because you love me?”_  
  
 _Sherlock ignored him as he texted._  
  
 _John smiled to himself._  
  
“Wish he just did it straight off, has to be so bloody dramatic about everything.” He signed the last paper and handed everything to Mycroft who was sitting next to him.  
  
“If my brother was not dramatic, he would not be Sherlock.”  
  
Greg threw his head back in a laugh, “Drama clearly runs in the Holmes family. Did I ever tell you-”  
  
“It’s time to leave now, Gregory if you want to make it to dinner with Tabitha and Ashley on time.” Mycroft stood up.  
  
Greg just smiled, “All right. We’ll get a pint Tuesday, yeah?” He asked John and nodded. “You’re welcome to tag along Keaghan, Aife.”

Lily raced over to the door, “Bye Uncle Greg, Uncle Mycroft!” She hugged Greg’s leg.  
  
“Uncle?” Greg mouthed.  
  
“We’re trying something.” Sherlock and John agreed that Lily should have some type of extended family. They also asked Lily to start calling them Papa and Dad respectively. She liked it a lot.  
  
“Oh, bye, love.” Greg patted her on the head. “See you soon.”  
  
“Lily, it’s nearly dinner. Why don’t you clean up your toys?” He gestured to the pile of things by his desk.  
  
She did it without protest.

 

 

* * *

John looked around Lily’s room after eating dinner. “Well she can’t sleep in here tonight.” He tossed a rag into the large garbage bag.  
  
“No, her bed isn’t assembled anyway.”  
  
“I have an idea.” John grinned.  
  
Sherlock groaned, “Whatever it is better not involve paint. I’ve had enough of it today. For a lifetime, possibly. Tedious.”  
  
John gathered all the blankets and pillows in the flat and they made a fort. John hadn’t done that since he was a child but he remembered how it made him feel like he were camping. He also used the fairy lights they were going to put up in Lily’s rooms as well to add some light so Sherlock could read her a story.  
  
“You’re going to be a very good father.” Sherlock said softly, snuggled against him in their cocoon of blankets once Lily was fast asleep.  
  
“You already are.” John smiled.


	18. An Epilogue

They took care of Lily and sent her to school. Sherlock was insistent on making sure she received the best education, even if it was just a preschool. They were an average family. Sure they were a bit different. Most fathers do not have to yell at the other father to make sure there aren’t any toes in the microwave or acid in the fridge. That’s one reason why they moved Sherlock’s lab down to 221C. They did the best they could to balance cases and Lily. Aife and Nick helped out whenever Sherlock and John needed it on long cases.  
  
John and Sherlock’s relationship was just as it was before but just a bit different because it had evolved. There were rows and Sherlock was still impossible but now they could kiss when they made up. They didn’t wear wedding bands and they didn’t tell people they were married. Sherlock rarely told John that he love him. John told him every so often though. But neither of them felt they needed those things.  
  
They received word from Mycroft that Moriarty had been killed. Zombies of course. John was surprised to hear because the man was smart. Crazy and evil but brilliant. He was relieved though because that meant one less threat he had to worry about.  
  
Molly and Keaghan were expecting again, to no one’s surprise. Sally and Josh were no longer together but still worked together nicely. They were both back to insulting Sherlock as well. Aife and Nick were planning their own wedding but were in no rush as they were both just enjoying their lives. Mycroft and Greg were getting on just fine as John could tell as well.  
  
A year after returning to London and things finally felt normal.  
  
One day in May Sherlock suggested a holiday to Rye. They packed their things up and headed out to the seaside town. They stopped at Mrs. Hudson’s grave on the way and told Lily all about her, leaving out the gory details of her death.  
  
They spent the first day on the beach and Lily and Sherlock got sunburns. John wasn't sure who complained more. They explored the town the next morning. There were now people who had moved back to the town. John was happy to see the music shop was open again. The owner had survived with family on a farm outside a neighboring village. John went in and paid the man for the violin after explaining about their time and the gift. The man was so grateful he gave Sherlock some new strings even though John protested.  
  
The next morning was spent in bed.  
  
John typed slowly, copying his notes from the black leather bound book Sherlock had given him during their Christmas in Rye. He was sharing their stories of that year on his blog. John figured people might want to hear about it. Even if it was boring or painful people could relate to it.  
  
He hit publish before stretching then rubbing Sherlock’s arm. The other man was reading a medical journal John had packed to read. He reached over Sherlock to the man’s bedside table to steal a sip of his tea before it went cold. John had been too lazy to retrieve his own earlier and Sherlock was being an arse.  
  
Lily laughed from the foot of the bed at the show she was watching on Sherlock’s iPad. She was looking down with her head resting on both hands, feet kicking in the air. Sherlock hated that she watched cartoons and other children shows but John told him it was a normal kid thing to do. She was smart as a whip anyhow.  
  
He felt bad that they were back in her hometown and she had no one there to go to. One day Mycroft had dropped off a few things that were found in Lily’s flat. One was a baby book. John learned about Lily’s baby years and he also found a few good pictures of her mum and dad. He framed one of the photos and hung it in her room. Sherlock protested but John wanted her to know who her biological parents were. He barely knew a thing about them so he felt like he needed to provide her with something. A picture was better than nothing.  
  
“Stop thinking.” Sherlock said from behind the journal.  
  
John moved Sherlock’s hand from the paper and rested his head on the other man’s chest. Sherlock’s hand went back to the journal and John let out a content sigh. He leaned up and kissed two of the freckles on Sherlock’s burnt cheeks.  
  
“Ewww.” Lily giggled then climbed on top of Sherlock. "Papa may we go to the beach today?" She pushed the medical journal down.  
  
"Tomorrow, love. I want to give your and your Papa's skin a break." John answered instead.  
  
"I asked Papa."  
  
"She knew you'd say no." Sherlock set the medical journal aside.  
  
"Yes and she knew you would be a pushover and say yes." John ruffled her hair.  
  
"No!" She made a face. "Papa will you read to me?"  
  
"I'd much rather hear you read."  
  
"Ok!"  
  
Lily scurried off the bed and ran for her room to get a book.  
  
"This is what you wanted isn't it?" Sherlock spoke quietly.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"You mentioned lazy Sunday mornings to me once."  
  
John just smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. Thank you for reading!


End file.
